


Duplicitous

by sugasgrowl



Category: Monsta X (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood and Gore, Crimes & Criminals, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Gore, Gun Violence, Injury, Knives, Multi, Murder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Robbery, Slow Burn, Smut, Swearing, Torture, Undercover Missions, Violence, mafia, mentions of human trafficking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 53,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25780234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugasgrowl/pseuds/sugasgrowl
Summary: For the past five years, Oh Nari has not existed. Instead of being a person, she has been a shadow eternally indebted to the Monsta X crime family for getting her off the streets and away from her murderous father. But when using her skills in covert operations to help take down a rivaling mafia known as Bangtan, information comes to light that changes everything she’s ever known. Loyalties are tested, alliances are formed, and lives are at stake as Nari fights for family, truth, and freedom from the duplicitous life she’s been forced to live.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/named OC (Oh Nari), Lee Jooheon/named OC (Oh Nari)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 31





	1. Jackpot

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! After a long time of thinking it over, I decided to cross post my fics between my tumblr (sugasgrowl) and here! This story is my baby, so I hope you all enjoy it.

“Tell me what you know.”

She drew a deep breath through her nose. The warm and woody musk of Jooheon’s dimly lit office made her feel like she was in a cave. Meters and meters below the Earth’s surface, separated from all sunlight and fresh air. Like the planet’s core was hot and crackling just beneath her feet. Like she was a breath away from Hell.

And yet, somehow, it still felt like home.

“Formed in 2013. Most of their income comes from drug rings and illegal pornography. A smaller portion of their income comes from making deals with other snakes, and an even smaller portion comes from heists,” Nari’s tongue darted out to lick her lips. “A pretty small gang. Made of six capos. They’re small enough that there’s no official underboss or consigliere. Just a few associates and soldiers, but surprisingly successful despite that. Led by Min Yoongi.”

He stopped his pacing and leaned over the mahogany desk--strong, ringed hands harboring foggy halos on the mirror-like surface. His eyes were sharp, cold, and black as pitch as he barked out, “Members?”

She didn’t even flinch. She was long used to Jooheon’s “business” persona, “Min Yoongi. Twenty six. Leader of Bangtan. Small but mighty. Hell of a strategist. Close with corrupt government officials, specifically Amber Liu. This is how they manage to keep their place in the public eye to a minimum.”

“Choice of weapon?”

“Usually a gun. He likes it clean and easy,” she recited. “But if necessary, he can and will use anything within reach to get the job done.”

“Next.”

She pointed to one of the photos strewn across the gleam of the wood, “Kim Seokjin. Twenty six. Family slaughtered when he was young. Father had his hands in the mafia and zigged when he should’ve zagged. Was a junkie in med school. Heroin. Rehab courtesy of Yoongi’s right hand man, Kim Namjoon,” she gestured to another photo. “Seokjin is impossibly smart. Graduated early and is now working as a surgeon in one of the top hospitals in Seoul. Well-known enough and famous enough that he makes an ungodly amount of money and has connections to some shady pharm providers. Narcotics are just one of the ways that they run their drug business. The rest is the hard shit.”

She picked up the photo of Kim Seokjin’s savior, “Kim Namjoon. Twenty five. Also ridiculously smart, just without the opportunities Mr. Kim Seokjin was blessed with. Orphan from a young age, passed from foster home to foster home. Ex-convict. Arrested and charged for a rape and murder he didn’t commit. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong crowd. Served four in juvie before his case was taken back to court and was acquitted of all charges. Then he found Yoongi.”

“Yoongi found him,” Jooheon corrected, straightening his spine and beginning to pace.

“No,” she looked up at him. “He found Yoongi. Namjoon had knowledge of Yoongi and what Yoongi was trying to start. Knew about him just like I do. I have no doubt in my mind that he knew he would be there at the fights that day. He knew he would be watching.”

Jooheon gave her an indiscernible look from across the office. His mouth was set in a line. He didn’t like to be challenged, but she knew he would make an exception for her and her only. After a steely beat of silence, he jerked his chin towards the rest of the pictures, “Finish.”

And she did. She recited every detail about every member. About Jung Hoseok, the loose cannon who was the human equivalent of a dog born and raised for fights--only he was born into a wealthy family who emotionally and physically abused him for years and left him jumping at the bit to rip someone apart the second he was given permission. Best friends with Yoongi since high school and the first recruited member of Bangtan.

Park Jimin, with his short fuse and criminal record of multiple assaults and gambling. Which is exactly how Yoongi found him, nearly foaming at the mouth and fighting against the three officers it took to get him cuffed and in a cop car. One night in jail and one phone call later and Jimin was leaving the precinct with Yoongi as a new member.

Kim Taehyung, expert on all things electronic and explosive. Yoongi found him living a completely normal life working at Geek Squad, the only thing giving away his potential being the notifications Seokjin got when someone was hacking into the hospital’s confidential records on him. The leader lured him in with the promise of greatness, and that’s exactly what he achieved. 

And lastly, the newest member. Jeon Jungkook. Young, inexperienced, naive, and deceivingly gentle. A runaway from an abusive father who swiped wallets and jewelry to survive. A common pickpocket. But Yoongi saw something more in him that caused him to take him under his wing at the young age of seventeen and teach him the ways of a more sophisticated criminal lifestyle. 

Jooheon’s face remained stoic throughout Nari’s regurgitation of knowledge. He nodded slowly as she finished, leaning against the bookshelf in unbothered disinterest. His inky black hair shone in the dim light, all swept back off his forehead to maintain his clean, sleek appearance. He looked handsome, albeit cold. 

With a deep breath, he righted himself and straightened his jacket, “And what is your mission, Oh Nari?”

Her lips curled at the corners, “Infiltrate. Learn their biggest clients and how they won them over. Get as much intel as possible. Win their trust. Report back to you.”

A sinister gleam shone in his black eyes, “And then?”

“And then we kill them all so that Monsta X can snatch their clients and drain their accounts.”

Jooheon slowly but surely made his way around the perimeter of the desk until he was standing right beside where Nari sat in the high backed leather chair. Each footstep was equally measured and timed so that time seemed to stop. An icy chill followed in his wake, as it always seemed to. The heat in his eyes and the ice radiating off of him drew goosebumps across her skin and the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Just like it always seemed to.

With a wicked grin, he held her face in his hands and leaned down to press his lips to hers in a lingering kiss. His tongue teasingly swiped against hers before he pulled away. Mint gum. He even tasted like the tundra.

Nari loved it.

“You’re going to make us so proud, baby,” he hummed. 

She couldn’t fight the smile on her face. For nearly five years, she’d been training under Jooheon’s watchful eye. He, and the rest of Monsta X, took her from being a scrappy homeless girl back in her homeland after fifteen years in the States to a lethal weapon. They taught her the value of invisibility in a world where everyone has almost any information at their fingertips. They erased the scared girl she was in the US and sketched out her new identity. 

She became a ghost. A faceless spirit lurking in the shadows. For five years, her only access to the outside world was through covert operations for Monsta X. Aside from the occasional time Jooheon allowed her to venture into town, her time away from the mansion was spent either slaughtering enemies and potential threats or going undercover to find their deepest filthy secrets. 

For the past five years, she did not exist. For the past two years, she trained specifically to kill Bangtan.

Hitwoman. Covert agent. Criminal. Soon-to-be member of Bangtan. The many faces of Oh Nari.

And none of them belonged to her.

“I won’t let you down, Jooheon.” 

“Please don’t,” he patted her cheek just a bit too hard. A dangerous smile tugged at his full lips, “You know I don’t handle disappointment very well.”

He turned on his heel and strode towards the study door, “Get dressed. It’s your last night before we put you on their radar. This calls for a celebratory dinner, don’t you think?” 

\-----------------------------------

There was nothing quite like walking into a room with Lee Jooheon. The way he carried himself like he was the most powerful man in Seoul made him actually become the most powerful man in Seoul. Even if they didn’t know him, people sensed the shift in the air when he walked through the door and shrank to the size of fleas. 

And if they didn’t give him the respect he deserved, they never made that mistake twice. 

When they stepped through the ornate doors of Il Pescatore, half the patrons’ eyes fell directly into their plates. Nari swelled with pride when the weight of Jooheon’s hand slid down to the small of her back. The weight of the horrors that hand caused felt comforting somehow. Like it anchored her in place amongst all the details she noticed in the world around them that made her muscles twitch and tense as they readied to lunge for the gun she kept less than an arm’s length away at all times. 

Nari sipped on her wine as Jooheon ordered for them. Part of her felt not only for the nervous and sweaty waiter whose hands visibly trembled but also for the cook who undoubtedly had to read his illegible handwriting. At least their food would be impeccable. Not that it was anything less than that any other time they came to eat at the lavish Italian restaurant. 

Across the centerpiece of candles and hundreds of dollars worth of glass and silverware, Nari locked eyes with Jooheon. She placed her wine glass on the white tablecloth, “I assume everything is set in motion.”

The shadows thrown across his face from the flicker of the candles made his catlike smile seem twice as sinister, “Everything is set up for you. All you have to do is make an appearance at the Galaxy and introduce yourself to as many people as possible. I sent a few of our associates out to spread information about you to the community. People are already whispering about you, dove. You know Bambam is a talker, so word of you being at the Galaxy tomorrow will spread faster than gonorrhea between his whores.”

For the first time in five years, her chest tightened with uncertainty. All this time she’d spent preparing for the mission that seemed to crawl further and further away with every passing hour of Krav Maga and target practice. Although Nari was no stranger to high stake jobs for Monsta X, failing this particular mission meant training intensively for two years for no reason. 

What would happen if she couldn’t go through with it? What would Jooheon say? To the deepest depths of her soul, she wanted to believe that he would be understanding, but truthfully she wasn’t so sure. She’d seen the way he treated his associates when they failed to deliver. He had no qualms about wiping them off the face of the planet if he saw fit.

Maybe she was different because they were in love. Maybe. 

Then again, she thought her mother and father were in love. And that did nothing to save her life. 

Jooheon speared the unsuspecting lettuce of his salad as soon as it was placed in front of him, “You’ll make us proud. I know you will.”

“Of course,” she mused with a smile, ignoring the waiter entirely and draining the last bit of red wine from her glass. “I always do.”

She knew she could do it. She knew she had the skill and the ability. But something felt different this time. As if something was lurking in the bushes waiting to jump out and strike. Nari was never one to overthink and worry, but that sinking feeling in her gut was so startlingly foreign that it had her on edge. Something about the way Jooheon put so much emphasis on the importance of this particular mission beat her usually raging confidence into submission. 

As Jooheon babbled away while they ate, she thought back to when he first found her on the streets. The memory of that day made her straighten her spine. The day that determined the course of the rest of her life. 

_Only living in Seoul for the first three years of her life before moving to America, she had no idea how to navigate. She was still subpar with the language at the time. She was barely eighteen, jobless, penniless, motherless, and on the run from her father. Literally starving on the streets with no hope of creating a better life for herself._

_Until Jooheon waltzed up to where she sat curled against the side of a building with her knees pulled to her chest for warmth. It was supposed to be in the single digits after the sun went down, and she had only two somewhat decent blankets and a mediocre excuse for a coat. Her stomach gnawed at her spine, hunger making her vision swim any time she moved too quickly. She internally questioned whether or not running from her father was even worth it if she was starving and freezing to death._

_But then he just...showed up._

_The first thing she saw was her own unkempt and wild reflection in the shine of his impeccable, designer shoes. Her empty, dark eyes slowly trailed up his body until she was looking into the face of the man who would change her life. Even back then, he radiated cold. It was below freezing, and somehow his presence made the temperature drop another ten degrees. Since day one, Jooheon was absolutely frigid and bone chillingly beautiful. He was a human ice sculpture. And despite the authoritative way his hands nestled in the pockets of his dress pants and the ice that lived in his black irises, he didn’t look much older than her at all. He might’ve been twenty at the time, if that._

_He cocked his head to the side as he stared down at her, “What would you do for ten thousand dollars, Oh Nari?”_

The answer? Anything.

And now? She made a minimum of nearly twenty thousand a head from strangers wanting to take out abusive husbands, suspicious wives, or politicians who fucked with the wrong people. And on top of that, she got to keep a small percentage of all of Monsta X’s earnings. The spoils were never divided equally—most of the money going straight into Jooheon’s pocket. But she never questioned it for a minute. Leading a crime family involves taking care of a lot of people. 

Jooheon wasn’t a warm man, but he did what he had to to care for his own. He showed how much he cared in what he bought for them. 

To put it frankly, Nari felt very, _very_ loved. Even if he didn’t say it often or carry the warm disposition she once imagined herself being tied to. She never had to want another day of her life. All the diamonds and clothes she could ever want, right at her fingertips. All she had to do was get some blood on her hands and deceive men to the point of death. Simple stuff.

She was like a spoiled siren, luring men to their doom in hopes of Jooheon’s approval and ridiculously overpriced gifts. 

Across the table, Jooheon snickered, “How many glasses of wine have you had? You’ve been staring into space for ten minutes.”

“Sorry,” she flashed a smile. “Just a little tipsy.”

\-----------------------------------------

The ride back to Monsta X’s mansion on the mountain was always a painstaking one. Especially when Jooheon’s hands were creeping higher and higher up her bare thigh as her dress rode up. After drinking wine, he always had a tendency to get handsy. The fact that their driver had long since rolled up the partition in their gleaming black Rolls Royce Phantom only heightened the electric charge pulsing through the back of the vehicle. Like they managed to bottle the beginning of a lightning storm. And judging by the carnivorous way Jooheon tongued at her throat, the sirens were blaring. A storm was coming. 

It was just his luck that Nari was a sucker for the brief and nearly imperceptible thaw in his glacial personality once alcohol hit his bloodstream. 

His lips grazed her neck as he gave a cocky smirk against her sensitive skin. His ego was suffocating in that sexy way that had him brimming with absolute sureness in everything he did. When he kneaded the flesh of her inner thigh, the tickle of his breath made her shiver, “You look damn good in that dress.” 

“You bought it,” she gave a breathless chuckle and sighed as his full lips traced across her pulse point. 

“Yeah,” he snarkily responded, growling low like a bristling wolf when she knotted her fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck. She wanted to pull him further into her, to feel him closer. Always wanted him closer. But he resisted, defined muscles tensing underneath his jacket. He wasn’t a fan of being on the receiving end of teasing and tugging and subtle demands for intimacy. He preferred to play predator rather than prey. His teeth nipped at her jaw, “ _Because_ I knew you would look damn good in it.” 

The softest choke of a moan caught in her throat at the faint sting from his teeth, any response dying on her tongue. Jooheon had a talent for doing that, silencing her and stealing her breath with the slightest effort. One of her needy hands snaked down the front of his dress shirt, fingertips grazing the satin of his tie and the sleek of his buttons as she trailed lower and lower. 

The soundless shiver that rolled through him when she palmed the stiff front of his pants made slick arousal gather between her legs. But God forbid she comment on it or poke fun. She learned from past experiences that Jooheon had a deep seated hatred for being reminded that he was just a man and not the god he portrayed himself as. 

He pulled back and sat in the luxurious leather of the back seat despite Nari’s needy whines. His knees spread wide enough to park a truck between them, his arms stretched across the back of the seats. Slicing eyes somehow both scalded every inch of skin they touched and froze her to the core.

With a jerk of his head, he motioned to the floor, “On your knees.”

There was no room for negotiation in his tone, not that she wanted to. It was not a request, not a plea. It was an order. 

To a normal person, the speed of Nari slinking down to the floorboards might have bordered on embarrassing. But to her, it was just the way things were done. Her time to have control was on her missions. Behind the scope of her gun, behind a disguise, or as she ended someone’s life. Her control ended when she came home and from then on, Jooheon made her decisions for her. 

Nari was her own person, but when it came to Jooheon, she was an extension of him. He was her boss, lover, and protector all in one. Because of him, she was able to rise from the ashes and burn brighter than she ever could have in America at the hands of her father. He wasn’t perfect, but he was her savior. He could have her power. He could have her control. She owed him. 

Anything he commanded, she would find a way to follow through. He deserved the respect.

She peered up at him from where she rooted herself to the floorboards, hands behind her back and back straight as a rod--cramped space be damned. The tickle of the wetness pooling in her lace panties made her flush to her collar.

He nudged her with his knee, brows furrowing and his voice a threatening, low rumble of thunder in his chest, “What are you waiting for? Go. Show me how hungry you are for my cock.”

A quick flick of his button and fly and his throbbing length was standing tall before her eyes. 

She wrapped her fingers around his base and dragged the flat of her tongue along the underside of his turgid, throbbing length. He tasted like sex and heat, and it made her moan against him. He may just be a man, but his dick was godly. There was no debating that. 

Jooheon let out a hiss at the vibration and reached down to grip Nari by the chin, “Don’t play with your food.”

She grinned, tipsy on wine and drunk on Jooheon’s designer cologne--to which he responded by giving her flushed cheek a light slap. Her smile only grew with the sting rushing to the side of her face. His eyes were bottomless wells of ink as he grabbed himself and slapped his cock against her lips, cheeks, jaw. Dull, percussive _thwacks_ filled the cab of the car with every hit. He loved when she was crazed for him. It made him feel powerful, made him feel bigger than he was. She knew that’s most of why he loved it so much, but that didn’t make her reactions any less genuine. It certainly didn’t stop her from letting her tongue hang from her mouth like the bitch he wanted her to be in hopes of being granted a quick taste.

He glared down his nose at her and growled through gritted teeth, “Suck.”

The five star meal paled in comparison to the warm tang of Jooheon’s precum on her tongue.

By the time they finally reached the mansion, he was shoving her head down until he was balls deep in her throat and holding her there until her drool dribbled down her chin. He didn’t let up until tears poured from her eyes and his groin tingled with the promise of an Earth-shattering release. The sounds of her shameless slurping and gulping almost got him there on their own, but he would never tell her that. 

When they felt the car park, he pulled her off by the roots of her hair and tucked himself back into his pants. 

“You look like the most high class and expensive whore in all of Seoul,” he cooed in a rasp, his thumb dragging a mixture of saliva and precum across her swollen, tingling lips. He hummed when she wrapped her lips around the digit and tongued along his fingerprint. Staring down at her in a stoic fondness, he pressed her tongue down in her mouth and held her there--wide eyed and mouth slightly ajar, “Get up and be a lady for Byun.”

The idea that their driver would undoubtedly know what they’d been up to in the backseat when he saw her mascara running and her lipstick smeared made her bite her lip. Nari did as Jooheon commanded and crawled back into the seat next to him to wait for Byun to open their door. 

All the while, Jooheon’s fingers clutched the sensitive meat of her upper thigh--fingertips carelessly teasing her slit through her ruined panties as if they were completely alone. 

Without warning, the car door swung open to reveal their long-time, devoted driver, Byun. He barely bat an eye before giving the smallest bow and a polite, “We’ve arrived, Mr. Lee.”

Nari guessed he wouldn’t be too surprised. He’d seen more disturbing sights in the backseat. 

Jooheon’s hand stayed plastered to the curve of her ass as they walked inside, even when the lights past the foyer were cloaking everything in darkness. Quite frankly, she was glad the rest of the team was already asleep. She didn’t need them poking fun at how much of a slut she was for Jooheon—even though it was no secret. 

She followed him up the ornate staircase, eyes locked on the sharp lines of his broad shoulders illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the arched windows lining the perimeter of the house. People could say what they wanted about Jooheon, but one thing no one could dispute was the fact that he was sculpted out of marble. In her opinion, the statue of David had nothing on Lee Jooheon. 

The second they passed through their bedroom door, he had her pinned against the cool wood with his fingers wrapped around her throat. The thrill of the panic the lack of oxygen brought on made Nari go weak in the knees. 

“You’re going to be away from us for a long time,” he stated against the heat of her mouth, his pupils blown out and eager. “You’ll stay loyal.”

She thought maybe, just maybe, it was a question or almost like a plea. So, she nodded, “Always. I’m yours, Jooheon. I’m a member of Monsta X.”

“Oh, I know,” he moved his heavy hand from her supple throat to knot and anchor in her hair. The tingling burn in her scalp had her neck bowing back to expose more of her jugular, and she knew Jooheon well enough to know how badly he wanted to sink his teeth deep enough into it so that she bruised blue and violet above the collar of all her shirts. But he refrained, “You’ll always be mine.”

She squirmed, slick between her thighs and flashing a fucked out, lazy, gasping smile when he used one hand to pin both of hers high above her head. His full lips brushed her ear, his voice threateningly low, “I’m going to make sure you remember who you belong to while you’re away.”

As if Nari could ever forget.

\------------------------------------------------------

Her heels echoed against the mirror-like hardwood floors as she made her way down the staircase. Somewhere behind her, a butler clambered with her luggage. Nari was off to head towards “her apartment” for possibly the last time. If all went according to plan at the Galaxy, of course. 

For the past two years, she used her own personal card to pay rent for a nice Gangnam apartment--all a ruse for the sake of this mission. Jooheon told her that Taehyung, Bangtan’s hacker, would most definitely be running a background check if she happened to pique Yoongi’s interest. She had to be elusive, but not nonexistent. Everyone who exists leaves a paper trail. Jooheon molded her fake persona and left her paper trail like a dribbling of inconspicuous breadcrumbs. Not enough information for authorities to be concerned, but just barely enough to keep Bangtan from getting suspicious and seeing Nari for what she was--a double agent. 

To keep up appearances after renting the apartment, she would spend a couple of weeks at a time staying there to build a reputation with security guards, cameras, and the doormen staffing the lobby. After those couple of weeks came to a close, she would leave again for “work.” To them, she was just a workaholic woman in her early to mid twenties who was lucky enough to snag a high paying job--presumably a position in her family’s company.

To Bangtan, the gaps of time were consistent and lengthy enough that they could be considered heists or hits.

As she walked towards the foyer, Jooheon appeared from around the corner with a small, expectant smile. She savored the warmth of his hand resting at her waist and tried to ignore the slight heaviness in her chest. She was used to leaving for weeks at a time to do work for Monsta X, but the fact that there was no set time for this mission and no real way of knowing how long it would take made her miss Jooheon before she’d even left.

He leaned down to press his lips to her temple in a quick, clean kiss. Quite the contrast from the raw, unabashed way he fucked her twitchy and numb all night long. The memory of their last night together secretly made her sad. 

“Today is the day,” giddiness crept into his voice. “You’re going to make us so proud.”

Her lips pulled up into a soft smile, “I always do.”

“Of course you do,” he beamed. She hadn’t seen him this happy--well, maybe ever. “Byun won’t be escorting you to your apartment. He’s too much of a regular for Monsta X. I’ve hired you someone new just for this occasion to keep people from associating you with us.”

She nodded, eyes flitting to the window. The new driver hoisted her suitcases into the trunk. Secretly, she wished it was Byun. At least he would be a familiar face, “I know. I know the plan.”

The sharp look of annoyance Jooheon sent her made her eyes drop to the floor, but the expression was short-lived. Too important of a day for Jooheon to scold her about her tone, she supposed. 

Hyunwoo lumbered through the front door, his perfectly pressed button-up rolled up at the sleeves to expose his scarred and tanned forearms. The glint of his Rolex was almost brighter than the dimming sun as dusk began to fall, “Boss, the car is ready. Everything’s ready to go.”

Jooheon clasped his hands in front of him with a gleeful grin and turned his attention back to Nari, “It’s time.”

The walk to the car was the most nerve wracking walk she had ever experienced. Even with Jooheon’s long, measured strides beside her. For whatever reason, she felt like she was walking right to her death, but she knew she was just being dramatic. She was a professional. She knew what she was doing, she knew what was at stake for this mission. 

A black Mercedes Benz SUV sat in the pristine driveway, much less luxurious than their usual Rolls Royce Phantom. Yet another precaution taken to ensure she wasn’t associated with Monsta X. Anything for the mission. 

“This is Lim,” Jooheon spoke casually as they approached the vehicle. The elderly driver tipped his hat with a genuine smile, and for a moment Nari wondered how he got roped into this. “He’ll be escorting you to the Gardens today.”

She gave a smile that she knew looked genuine and syrupy sweet, “Thank you for driving me, Lim.”

He gave no answer before ducking into the front seat aside from the tips of his ears reddening.

Jooheon opened the door to the backseat and held it open for her to slide in, “Call me if you make any progress.”

She looked up at him with a nod, her honey colored hair billowing in the wind. There was a beat of silence, and he made a move to shut the door, but she gripped his wrist, “I love you.”

His gaze was soft and bordering on warm, but it was as comforting as sunshine reflecting on snow--stark and still freezing cold, “I know.”

He shut her door with a slam, and she drew a deep breath as she sank into the leather seats. Only a moment passed before her eyes fluttered open when he tapped on her window. He stared into the tinted glass and barked a muffled, “Nari!”

She rolled down her window, “Yeah?”

“Do not disappoint me,” the frost in his voice made her shiver. It was a threat. 

All she could do was nod.

He stepped back from the car just as it pulled out of the driveway.

\----------------------------------------------

Nari hated her apartment. She always had. Not that it wasn’t beautiful, because the multimillion dollar apartment was decorated to her tastes--or what Jooheon thought her taste was. It was a palace of white marble, luxury fur rugs, and designer furniture that would make MTV Cribs start to sweat. Big enough for one person, but nice enough for any billionaire to stay in with no real complaint. 

It just felt so impersonal.

There were no pictures lining the walls, no hand scribbled lists or notes on the fridge, and certainly no old Christmas cards or wedding invitations held there by quirky novelty magnets. No, those would clash with the streamline, cool aesthetic that Jooheon pasted her to. Not to mention, her only friends were Monsta X. And none of them even bothered to see her off before she dropped off the planet for god knows how long. 

She couldn’t blame them for that, though. Emotions aren’t exactly welcome in the mafia world. None aside from anger, greed, and bloodlust, anyway. Jooheon believed emotions were weaknesses that would get you killed. That’s why he felt so few. He had to be strong for the team, had to be the cold and numb tundra to survive in their world. Even if that meant Nari’s affections bounced off him like rubber. 

She sighed as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a plush towel. She couldn’t blame him, just like she couldn’t blame the others. He did what he could. He provided. She knew she shouldn’t be bitter with him over so many things. She loved him dearly, he did everything for her. He helped her get an apartment, he got her into the gang, he molded her into a deadly weapon. She was just nervous and anxious and needed somewhere to pin her insecurities, that was all. 

But she really wished he had bothered to ask what she wanted in that god forsaken apartment. 

Steam swirled through the air in a graceful ballet of mist as she stepped onto the bath mat and padded over to the vanity. Everything glistened in a frost-like layer of steam that settled and pooled until the moisture collected into drops that rolled down her mirror like tears. Without a second thought, she blasted them away with the hairdryer until the blur of steam receded and revealed her bare face.

As the dryer screamed in a dull roar, she stared at herself. Light brown hair soaked limp and hanging nearly black against her cheeks and neck to make her look half drowned. Upturned eyes blankly bore into her as if searching for some sort of answer. The semipermanent smirk stitched into her expression twisted into a focused scowl. Nothing special, she thought. At least, not yet. She still had to put on her fiercest makeup and skin tight dress. She would look like herself then. She would look like Oh Nari.

She found comfort in putting on her face. Something about the complete concentration and the order of steps. The routine, the ritual, the resurrection of a woman from the twenty two year old body of a girl. This was the part of it all that she loved and hated--turning herself into a stranger. What was odd about this time was that she was essentially forced to be herself, give or take a few major details. She was never allowed to just be Oh Nari. Not once on a job had she ever been allowed to take on her own name and reveal any semblance of truth. 

That night would be the first night in five years that she existed. 

By the time she finished getting ready, her crimson lip line and jet black eyeliner were almost as sharp as her tongue. Glancing in the mirror one final time, she smirked. She looked good--she knew she did. 

Black silk clung to the curves of her body in all the right places, and that fact was solidified when she stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby. The security guard for the night ogled damn near every inch of exposed skin, from the toes of her Christian Louboutin heels all the way to the top of her dyed head. She gave a flirtatious wave and a coy smile that dropped the second she passed through the front door. The night was warmer than she anticipated, which worked in her favor because she decided against wearing a jacket in favor of going balls to the wall sexy. 

As she waited patiently for her car, the screen of her phone illuminated in the fluorescent lights of Gangnam. Her heart did a little flip when she read who the text message was from.

**Jooheon:** Good luck. Make us proud.

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she made a face and slid her phone back into her purse. He knew what she would say, and she knew how he would respond. They were predictable that way. 

Lim slowly pulled up to the curb and got out to shuffle around and open her door, “Miss Oh.”

She dipped her head in a small bow, “Lim.”

She watched the bright sign on the awning of her building in the rearview mirror, the words _The Gardens_ shrinking into nothing as Lim dutifully drove her to the Galaxy. The distance was short, but the length of the ride seemed to stretch forever. Most of her nerves dissipated the second she got dressed and set foot in the lobby. Somehow she managed to convince herself that this was just like every other job she had ever done, it just took a little more time to prepare. She was in the zone, she was focused. She was playing the role of herself, as if it was what she was always allowed to do. Like it was normal for her to be a real person and not just a shadow.

Next to the surrounding clubs, bars, and restaurants, the outside of the Galaxy glittered and shone like a beacon from Heaven. Or Hell, more fittingly. Knowing what she did about the way the dancers and whores came to be Bambam’s employees, Nari figured it made more sense to associate the place with less pure locations. Three stories tall, neon purple signs, eye catching flashing lights and gleaming, reflective glass--somehow Bambam managed to hand craft seemingly the most high class club and whore house in the world.

Lim did his best to hurry to open the door for her, though part of her felt a twinge of guilt for making such a hunched old man do that sort of thing. She gave him a genuine smile of gratitude, “Thank you, Lim. I’ll call you later tonight.”

“Stay safe, Miss Oh.”

The intentional way he spoke made Nari glance back at him on her way in. The man knew more than enough about what he was getting into, that was for sure. Jooheon must have purposely chosen someone with experience, which was perfect. She didn’t have to worry about someone passing information about anything strange they might see to the cops.

The thump of the bass rattled her insides before she even set foot through the door. She stood before the bouncers and quirked a brow when they pretended they didn’t see her just authoritatively cut the line of potential patrons. 

She crossed her arms, “Are you going to let me in, or do I have to let myself in?”

The one to the right of the entrance gave her a half assed glance and rolled his eyes. He jerked his head, “Back of the line, princess.”

Inwardly, Nari groaned. She hated bouncers. Even more than that, she hated playing roles where she was forced to be an entitled bitch, yet here she was.

She cocked her hip out and tilted her head to the side with a hardened glare. Her chuckle was almost swallowed by the blaring music, “You better pray that you just don’t know who I am and aren’t just stupid.”

Neither of them responded, opting to stand rigidly--eyes unblinking like less useful gargoyles.

Annoyance sparked in her chest, “So which is it? Are you ignorant? Or stupid?”

“Listen, lady,” the other bouncer spoke, his voice almost laughably deep, “we don’t give a fuck _who_ you are. So be a good little bitch and head to the back of the fuckin’ line.”

She took a step forward so that she could glare up at him, almost directly up his stupid nose, “You’ll care who I am when Bambam hears how poorly you treated Oh Nari. Now from what I hear, he’s slit the throats of men for less than being disrespectful to a woman so powerful. But I can promise you, you both would _thank_ Bambam for however he punishes unruly employees if I got pissed enough to show my true colors.”

The two men exchanged nervous glances, her name obviously ringing a bell.

“So which _is_ it?” she spat, cheeks heating. “Are you two _ignorant?_ Or just _stupid?”_

The first bouncer unclipped the velvet purple ropes, “Have a good time, Miss Oh.”

As she strode through the mouth of the building, she called over her shoulder, “See? Now was that so hard?”

At least she made an entrance. Now news of her appearance would start to spread. 

Her eyes surveyed everything around her with the attentiveness of a police dog. She somewhat regretted her thoroughness when she caught sight of a sign that read “1st Floor: Club and Lounge. 2nd Floor: Private Rooms. 3rd Floor: The Labyrinth.”

The first floor was exactly what it said it was--just a club and lounge. The second floor was for reserved rooms rented out by paying customers to have a night with the whore of their choice. The third floor... The Labyrinth. A winding hallway full of only glory holes and nothing else. Punishment for unruly dancers, and just enough of the sleaze factor to bring in men who wanted anonymity. 

Nari shuddered and forced her eyes away. 

The place was huge. At the farthest wall stood a thrust stage just long enough for a vulgar dance routine, along with a couple side stages where a couple girls twisted and ground against poles with enough grace to surprise even the most seasoned strip club attendees. Across from the stage was the bar, lined nearly to the ceiling with different imported alcohols. Between the bar and the stage was a throbbing, swaying oasis of people dancing to the thumping music. An obnoxious number of those people looked to be high or drunk or both.

She needed alcohol to endure this. 

She made a beeline for the bar, squeezing between people and dodging strangers to the best of her ability in a crowd of what felt like hundreds. The row of stools at the bar was mostly filled, with just a few empty slots in between the clumps of people. 

She slid into one of the open seats and pulled out her card. She kept her back straight and her face as visible as she could while she scrolled through her phone. It felt strange to hope that someone saw her and possibly recognized her, but that odd prickle in her stomach was pushed aside when the bartender appeared out of thin air.

“What can I get for you, beautiful?” the rasp in his voice was audible over the music in some magical feat. He draped the rag over his shoulder and let his probing eyes rake along Nari’s body. He smirked, confident, “A cosmopolitan, maybe?”

She forced the urge to roll her eyes down to the deepest depths of her soul. 

She vaguely remembered this guy’s face from the less important information Jooheon taught her. Jackson Wang. Posing as just the bartender to make some extra money and stay in the loop, then working for Bambam to round up unsuspecting women and men off the streets to whore them out at the Galaxy. Part of the Galaxy’s appeal was the sick diversity of the place--Koreans, foreigners nabbed from vacations, men (straight and gay alike), varying body types. Whatever your taste, Bambam had something to offer. All thanks to the charm and silver tongue of Mr. Wang.

She let her face split into a Cheshire Cat smile and yelled over the roar of the club, “Gimme a Mojito and a shot of soju and I’m set.”

“You got your ID, love?”

That time there was no holding back the roll of her eyes as she lazily slipped her license into his palm.

He gave the plastic a long look before realization flashed in his eyes. Jackson handed back her card with a slow creeping smile and a knowing look. His eyes flitted down to her tits and before back up to lock on her eyes, “Coming right up, Nari.”

The guy was a sleaze, but he made a damn good mojito. 

While she drank, she scanned the crowd in search of any member of Bangtan. For whatever reason, she didn’t expect the Galaxy to be as packed as it was. She saw a lot of chaebol kids getting sloppy drunk in the VIP sections to the sides of the dance floor. She saw groups of men crowding around the poles like dogs as they drooled all over the floor. But no sign of Bangtan. 

She ordered another shot of soju and continued to search after she threw it back in one gulp. Maybe Jooheon was wrong. Maybe they weren’t coming tonight. Maybe--

“What’s a girl as gorgeous as you doing alone in a place like this?” The slur of words seemed to melt together in the heat of this drunk guy’s mouth. 

She turned her head to tell him to fuck off when she got a good look at his face. Thick lips, doughy eyes, the faintest spray of freckles across his cheekbones that didn’t pick up in his mugshot. It was Park Jimin. He was shorter than she anticipated he would be, but twice as handsome when he wasn’t glowering into the camera. Even while drunk he managed to hold himself with the poise of a model.

“A girl can’t enjoy drinks alone?” she joked, voice silky as she gave him her best heavily lidded gaze. “I didn’t realize I was breaking a rule, sir.” 

“No rules,” his flushed cheeks broke into a sly grin, his black eyes nearly disappearing. He slipped between her stool and her neighbor’s to be closer to her and ran a hand through his ebony hair, “Just thought you looked lonely.” 

“My hero,” she leaned close enough so that her lips nearly brushed his cheek when she spoke. Her fingers traced patterns on the inside of his exposed forearm. “It’s most definitely more interesting with a man as handsome as yourself here. Even if you have no name.”

The drunken, flustered laugh he let out made her smile turn into a genuine one. This was too easy. 

“I got a name,” his hand rested on her knee. “Park Jimin.”

His breath fanned out against her neck, and his voice seemed to drop an octave, “And what’s yours, angel?”

Goosebumps raised along her arms as she let out an amused chuckle. 

“Let’s play a game,” she walked her fingers up the firm muscles of his chest and hummed directly into his ear. 

“Like a bet?” he almost sounded like a little boy, excitement bleeding into the airy timbre of his voice. 

Jackpot. 

“Yeah, a bet,” her nails lightly raked down the front of his shirt, catching on the buttons. “If you can recognize my name once you hear it, I’ll dance with you.”

His pupils dilated to an all consuming black, “And if I don’t recognize you?”

He was all too eager to win. Unfortunately for him, there wouldn’t be much he would be getting out of this encounter in the end. 

She giggled, letting her nose and ruby lips trail lazily along the thrum of his pulse. Her nail ghosted along is jaw and neck until she lightly hooked it into the collar of his shirt, “Then I guess I’ll have to find someone else who recognizes true artistry when he comes across it.”

He shivered at that and pulled back just enough to let his heavy gaze scan her features. His hand crept further up the silky skin of her exposed thigh. It was warmer than Jooheon’s. In a thick slur of Busan satoori and liquor, he hummed in a tone nearing a beg, “Tell me your name, gorgeous.”

She spoke slowly, purposefully, “Oh Nari.”

He pulled back almost completely, just to stare at her with furrowed brows. Her cocky smirk had him attempting to force the double images swimming before his eyes back together, “You’re Oh Nari?”

Feigning disappointment, she sighed and straightened herself just to face the bar, “I guess you don’t recognize my name. I’ll just go find someone else--”

“You’re Oh Nari,” he spun her stool back around to face him, his glassy eyes struggling to focus entirely on her. “You’re the assassin. The...the criminal.”

So very eloquent. But then again, he wasn’t known for being the brains of the group. Just the one with the most pent up rage and a passion for betting. 

Her brows crept up to her forehead in false surprise, “So you do know me.”

Jimin’s brain chugged along to recall all the gruesome and heinous things she’d done on the job. The nuggets of information that Jooheon had spread across Seoul. He licked his lips, eyes flickering to her bright red mouth. He looked hungry, like he could’ve eaten her up right there. Had she not had a bigger goal here, she might’ve let him.

She parted her knees just enough for him to nestle between them. They were almost chest to chest, and his greedy hands were practically up her skirt. The closeness felt nice, so she leaned in to brush the tip of her nose against his.

Down the length of the bar, in the corner of her eye, a familiar set of dagger-like eyes bore into her and Jimin. It was his stillness that caught her eye, that knowing way of seeming to halt time with a simple glare. Adrenaline made her guts feel like they were floating. Without taking his eyes off her, he rattled off his order to Jackson. His eyes were like hot coals burning underneath a parted curtain of hair so faded blue that Nari couldn’t quite tell if it was an old dye job or just the neon lights reflecting on his bleached blond head. 

Hello, Mr. Min. So nice to finally meet you, she thought. 

She smiled against Jimin’s mouth, “I owe you a dance.”

\-------------------------------------------------

She looked like a normal person. It wasn’t often seeing women in their line of work, especially not women who look so nonthreatening. She just looked like a classy minx. Nothing more, nothing less. Wrapped up tight in black silk and patent leather and shining under the pulsing lights of the Galaxy like the only kind of Christmas present a man would want.

She seemed normal until Yoongi got a good look at her eyes. 

There was something in them. A sort of flashing, excited giddiness. One that only someone with blood on their hands and darkness in their soul could understand. It all but beamed straight through the low lighting and illuminated Jimin’s grinning face. 

What an idiot. He had no idea what was coming for him. 

There was no way she hadn’t heard of Bangtan. She was a contract killer who had racked up more kills than a thirteen year old playing Overwatch. Yoongi had no doubt in his mind that she had intel on everyone in that entire club. For all he knew, she was there on business--though he doubted it. She was faceless until tonight, he doubted she would throw her name around to the mouthy bartender like that if it wasn’t with a purpose. She wanted to be seen. The question was why.

Watching her push all of Jimin’s buttons until he was a flustered, horny mess made him intrigued as well as impressed. Yes, Jimin was easily persuaded by beautiful women when under the influence, but he was hardly ever resorted to a puddle of mush. 

She whispered something in his ear, her catlike mouth curling up sly and sneaky like she was twelve steps ahead of him. He pulled back, eyes wide, before saying something Yoongi couldn’t quite make out. She heaved a dramatic sigh and attempted to turn away, but Jimin wheeled her back around and rattled off something that clearly pleased her. The woman pulled him into her frame and leaned close enough that even Yoongi waited with baited breath for their lips to touch. 

But instead, they were headed towards the crowded dance floor in the blink of an eye. 

Yoongi snorted into his whiskey when Jimin nearly dragged her onto the dance floor. The second the man downed any form of alcohol, he hit on nearly anything that moved. That being said, he didn’t blame him for this one. Not when the woman in question was the infamous Oh Nari.

He’d heard her name through the grapevine nearly a year and a half ago, but the past few months it was like she was a faceless celebrity amongst their community. No one even knew what she looked like, and they still couldn’t stop talking about her. 

No one except for Bangtan, that is. Taehyung was a god when it came to digging shit up.

The more her name was whispered in his ear, the more he wanted to work with her. 

Yoongi was like a dog with a bone when it came to work. If he felt like there was a way Bangtan could benefit from something, he wouldn’t stop until he attained it for the better of his team. Somewhere deep in his gut he knew Nari would take Bangtan farther than they’d ever gone. 

That didn’t mean he would go in blind, though. He was no amateur. 

Because of that fact, he warily watched the stranger grinding on one of his best friends. She didn’t seem like a threat. But then again, neither did Jungkook and Taehyung. And he’d seen both of them beat a man into hamburger meat. Granted, Tae puked his guts up the second that guy’s brains sprayed across the walls of the Interviewing Room. But he downed an offensive amount of tequila the night before. 

Yoongi always used that as an excuse, because he didn’t want anyone daring to think that Tae didn’t belong with them. He did. He was one of the few things that kept them all human. 

Tae and Jungkook weren’t harmless, and he figured Oh Nari wasn’t either--no matter how innocent she looked. Not based off of the stories passed along down the line. From what he heard, she was a beast in the body of a woman. Rumors alone said she took out hits on people so cleanly that even Amber Liu hadn’t heard of her, and that was confirmed when Yoongi asked Amber what she knew about her. 

He took his last sip of whiskey and only tore his eyes away from Nari and Jimin to shake the ice in his glass in disappointment. When he looked back up, there was a direct parting of the crowd that allowed him a much easier time eyeing them from afar. 

It was hard to discern where one of them ended and the other began. Their bodies seemed to fuse together in sweaty, drunken matrimony--her back glued to his front. Jimin’s hands groped and grabbed and gripped every piece of her that he could, while she reached back to snake her hand up the side of his neck and root in the back of his black hair. If Yoongi squinted, he could almost see Jimin’s lips worshipping her long neck. Her eyes were still shining. 

He got Jackson’s attention and ordered another whiskey. 

When he looked back at them, their chests were pressed together in a heated kiss. Yoongi grimaced and silently wondered if Jimin would ever learn how to not be disgusting when he was into a woman. 

His dark eyes did a double take and locked in on Nari’s hands. Sliding lower and lower down Jimin’s back until she freed his wallet from his back pocket. She pulled away from the kiss and stared at Jimin with those gleaming, cunning eyes in a staged expression of embarrassment. Jimin was beaming, too wasted and too hard to even notice. She pecked him on the cheek and gestured to the bathrooms before heading in that direction.

Based off her shoes, she had more than enough money. Probably more in her purse than Jimin had in his wallet. Did she...did she know Yoongi was watching?

“Christ,” Yoongi grumbled and hopped down from his stool. Regardless, he couldn’t let her clean Jimin out for all his drunken ass was worth. 

He walked up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder before she could reach the restrooms. When she turned around, he swiped Jimin’s wallet from her hands and leaned closer to yell over the music, “You know stealing a drunk man’s wallet hurts his pride even more than his bank account?”

She looked up at him, upturned eyes innocent and shining in the neon lights. All of the sudden, her expression shifted to a haughty sneer as she waved Yoongi’s own wallet before his eyes, “What about a sober man?”

A minx, indeed.

He snatched it from her hands with a baffled laugh. She was good. Really good. He didn’t feel a thing. 

He opened it up and checked the contents to ensure all his cash and cards were there, as well as Jimin’s. Neither were emptied, so she obviously had no real intention of stealing their money.

He eyed her expectantly and nearly jumped out of his skin when a group of plastered college girls barreled between them. His cheeks warmed, but he tried to brush it off despite the hammering of his heart in his chest. He cleared his throat, “So, what? You--”

“So did Taehyung find everything he needed?” she stepped closer, hands clasped behind her back. Her cutting eyes seemed to look him up and down as if she was sizing him up, “Did I pass all your background checks, Mr. Min?”

Feline eyes narrowed. Taehyung’s program was supposed to keep him completely hidden.

“Did you run background checks on us, too?” 

“I don’t need to when I already know everything ahead of time,” she crossed her arms and threw a condescending smile his way, head held high. Yoongi absentmindedly wondered how her lipstick was still in mint condition after Jimin spent ten minutes sucking her face off. 

Head ticking to the side and a hiss sounding between his teeth, he stuffed his wallet into its rightful place in his back pocket, “What gave us away?”

Her coffee irises flashed orange, “Oh, I didn’t know for sure. I just assumed since you were watching me over there that you knew who I was. And considering I haven’t shown my face, the only way you could put a face to my name is if you’d done your homework.”

She was really good. 

She picked at her cuticles in disinterest and leaned back against the wall, “So. Why are your people watching me?”

Tongue flicking out to lick his lips, he drew a deep breath. Images of why he started it all flooded into his mind. Images of his mother, images of his older brother’s tombstone. Comparing his reasoning for starting Bangtan and why he wanted to work with Oh Nari made his stomach churn. His mother had been dead for five years--there were no more medical bills to pay off. Justifying the life he built for himself and his men was becoming harder and harder to do.

“I’m assuming you know everything about Bangtan, so I’ll cut to the chase,” he crossed his own arms and looked her in the eye. He wondered if his were shining, too. “I think you would fit well with my team. I think we could go far if we collaborate, and we could benefit you just as much as you could benefit us. If not more.”

“Oh? And how would that be?”

“Protection,” he answered immediately. “You would have seven men guaranteed who would die for you with no question, and dozens more who would do anything you asked. If you proved that you were loyal to us, of course. Not to mention the money.”

“The money?” she scoffed. “How much?”

He shrugged, “Depends on the job. If you do a solo job, it’s all your money. If it’s a group heist, we cut it seven ways. Even. With you, obviously, it would be eight.”

She blinked in surprise, brows flying to her hairline, “Even?”

“Even.”

“And I’d get all of the money from solo jobs? You wouldn’t take a cut?”

“No,” he assured. He didn’t start Bangtan with the intent to stay powerful and get rich. Money was nice, but why would he deserve a cut of her blood money when none of it was on his hands? “Not unless you insisted. I won’t turn down money if someone wants me to have it.”

She stayed silent, the throbbing bass nearly making her blur before Yoongi’s eyes. Clearly she wasn’t expecting his response. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never worked with anyone else before--”

“We would be good to you,” he pressed. “It takes a special person for me to want to go out of my way to look them up in hopes of working with them. Especially even after they stole my wallet.” 

She dragged her heavily lined eyes up from the floor with a thoughtful nod, “Yeah. Alright, yeah. I’m in.”

The corner of his mouth quirked in a half smile. Yoongi extended his hand, “Taehyung will contact you with details. Tomorrow you prove yourself.”

\--------------------------------------

Nari’s palms were sweating. She couldn’t remember a time when she was so nervous that her palms started sweating. She wished she could say it was from drinking too much last night at the Galaxy or from the greasy McDonald’s she ate on the way home, but if she did she knew it would be a lie. The sweat collecting at her fingertips was from nothing but sheer fear. And that in itself scared her.

Slaps of bare feet echoed against the white tiles as she paced back and forth across the apartment. She glanced at the clock on her phone screen. 12:57pm. They would be there at any moment to pick her up so that they could drive to the bank together to put the plan into action.

She took a deep breath and thought back over the plan she and Yoongi set up over the phone. 

_1:15pm, arrive at the bank with six of Bangtan’s members. 1:27pm, walk inside--masked and with only Namjoon by my side. Eventually make our way to where Jungkook is pretending to apply for a student loan. Gunpoint. Threaten. Demand to be taken down to the vaults. Get the fuck out of there by 1:45._

It was a solid plan, and one that would for sure work out. Nari had gone through with less detailed plans on the fly. But still, the thought of this heist determining whether or not she got accepted into Bangtan made her want to vomit. 

Her phone rang--the obnoxiously peppy tune of the Kakao ringtone making her jaw clench. She answered and put it up to her ear, “Yeah?”

“We’re here.”

Yoongi’s voice was lower and more demanding over the phone. Almost as haunting as the abrupt silence after he hung up as soon as he finished speaking. 

Walking down to the lobby had never been so nerve wracking. 

When she passed through the revolving glass door of her building, the sun nearly blinded her. It was hot--too hot for the black jeans and long sleeved shirt she would be wearing to conceal her identity. The duffle bag in her hands was almost weightless, yet still it dragged low to the ground like an anvil. 

A black van was parked just to the side. On autopilot, she marched right over to it. Her nerves were gone, replaced by sheer determination. There she was again, masquerading as a stranger. Masquerading as herself. 

Before she could open the door, it opened from the inside to reveal four of seven men she was quite possibly going to be joining officially. Taehyung, Namjoon, Jimin in the passenger seat, and then Yoongi behind the wheel. 

Taehyung and Namjoon eyed her, both cautious and curious at the same time. Jimin, on the other hand, glared out the window and avoided her gaze entirely. 

“Get in and get dressed,” Yoongi brusquely commanded with a direct jerk of his head. His blue-blond hair bounced and fell over his eyes when he moved. Agitated and on edge, he aggressively pushed the strands out of his eyes, “Jungkook is already there talking to the banker.”

“And Hoseok? Seokjin?” Nari slid the door behind her and stripped off her shirt without a care. None of the other men commented on her partial nudity, which was a good sign. At least they were professional. 

“Seokjin is working at the hospital. Hoseok,” Yoongi pulled away from the curb, “is on the roof of the neighboring building. For security’s sake. Just in case something happens. So he can step in if need be, and so he can have an aerial view of everything and can keep me in the loop directly.”

He sensed her hesitation and waved her off as he perched a cigarette between his lips, “It’s for your protection more than anything. From what I’ve heard, this bank’s security system isn’t as up to date as some others in Seoul, but you never know. The cops could always show up before you can get shit done.”

Wiggling out of her pants, she tossed them into the floor and hurriedly yanked the cheap bargain brand jeans up her legs. Her mind wandered back to Monsta X. Would they have included a pair of eyes on the rooftop specifically for her safety? She honestly didn’t know, considering Jooheon never let her go on an official heist with them. She was their little secret, so she was forced to remain hidden away. 

She pulled a long black wig from her duffle, to which Taehyung gaped openly. 

Pulling a wig cap over her braided hair, her brows furrowed, “What?”

Flustered, he closed his mouth and scrambled to assemble a coherent sentence, “Nothin’, I just have never seen someone put on a wig in person before.”

His voice was low and smooth and warm like melted chocolate. He sounded like a man, but the way he blushed up to his hairline and the way the ends of his shaggy dark hair curled up made him more like a boy. Something about the way his brown eyes widened made Nari feel soft inside, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. 

“Disguise is key,” she smirked and flipped her head over to pull on her wig. Once she righted herself, she grabbed the dollar store beanie and tugged it down over her head.

Taehyung cocked his head, “I thought you were supposed to glue it or something.”

She sent him a look of surprise, “How do you know about wigs?”

A bashful grin spread across his cheeks, “I got a friend that does drag. She’s all about the high quality hair, lemme tell you.”

From the front seat, Jimin scoffed and snatched a cigarette of his own from Yoongi’s pack. The hiss of his lighter was loud enough that Taehyung looked over at him with a thick-browed scowl, “You alright, man?” 

The smaller man cracked his window and ripped the butt of the cig from his mouth--smoke clawing its way from his pretty lips in a swirling tantrum, “I just think it’s funny that we’re letting her join. You know. Since she stole mine and Yoongi’s wallets last night. I dunno. Just. Funny.”

Nari locked eyes with Yoongi in the rearview mirror, and she fought the urge to laugh. Jimin’s pride was hurt, that was for sure. 

From across the backseat, Namjoon snorted, “Jimin, you’re just pissed because you didn’t get your dick wet.”

He whipped around, cigarette nearly flinging from his mouth in the process, “Yeah, and? I’m so sorry I’m not gungho about letting Oh Nari join Bangtan. She’s notorious for undercover work just so she can take people out for money, and you think she’s just all the sudden gonna know how to be loyal and diehard for a family? No. I don’t buy it. She knows how to read people, and I don’t trust her.”

Nari was impressed. He had brains after all. Maybe too much. She would have to make sure that he was one of the first people’s trusts that she earned. Obviously, having someone so vocal hating her guts wasn’t ideal. 

“Hey,” Yoongi snapped, eyes never leaving the road. 

His voice had a sharp edge to it that made Nari uncomfortable. Jooheon wasn’t one you wanted to upset or disappoint, but his scoldings never felt personal. It was always more like a teacher correcting a student--he did it because he cared and wanted her to be better, not because he took her fuckups to heart. Most of the time, anyway. Yoongi spoke to his men like family, not like students. Everything was personal. 

When Jimin started to protest, he took a hard left just so Jimin’s unbelted body could sling against the passenger door, _“I’m_ the leader here. She’s here to prove herself today. She’s here to earn us money--us as in you included, Jimin. She’s passed all our background checks and _my_ gut feeling says that she’s clean. What I say goes. Don’t make me pull the leader card again, or you’ll fuckin’ regret it.” 

As he curled up in the passenger seat and sulked, an angry vein bulged along his neck and temple. Nari made a mental note to watch out for those in the future. 

Yoongi pulled into a parking lot right next door to the bank, “Tae, think you can knock out the cameras on this block until we leave?”

The hacker was already pulling out his laptop and typing away, “You bet your ass I can.”

Nari locked eyes with Namjoon and tossed him a rubber animal mask to match hers. Both rabbits, “Let’s fuckin’ go.”

“You’ll have,” Yoongi glanced at the clock on the dashboard, “seventeen minutes. Hoseok and Joon have your back. Jungkook will help once you’re actually in the vaults.”

“Got it.”

And in a flash of blinding sunlight, she and Namjoon were stalking towards their target and concealing their faces. Her pistol pressed against the small of her back like a comforting hand. Had she been without her personal gun, she would’ve felt naked and exposed. She was thankful she was allowed to choose her own disguise and bring her own gun, even if it was all the most basic.

Namjoon gave her a nod before pulling open the door.

“Everybody on the fuckin’ ground!” 

Her own voice boomed across the pristine and polished tiles and echoed back to her. She even sounded like a different person. 

The thirteen or so people in the bank whirled around in befuddled terror, no one quite knowing what to do. A couple of panicked shrieks rang out. There was a great chance that this was their first time to experience a bank robbery. Nari was honored to share that moment with them. 

“I said _on the ground!”_ she whipped out her gun and let her aim roll across the unfortunate people’s faces as they scrambled to dive onto the floor. Namjoon followed suit and pulled his MCX Rattler from beneath his leather jacket. “Tellers, out from behind the glass. Now.”

Out of the corner of her eye, there was movement amongst the small cluster of desks. A pair of owlish eyes met hers, and she felt herself smile beneath the mask. 

“You two! Join the rest of the class!”

There was a hushed, jumbled mess of words muttered from behind the desk. Nari took it upon herself to investigate it further, all the while her gun poised and at the ready. From behind her, she could hear Namjoon’s authoritative barks for the hostages to put their hands behind their heads.

By the time she rounded the corner of the desk, she already identified the source of the sounds. The banker Jungkook picked was fervently murmuring prayers to whatever god he believed in. He shook so fiercely that he was practically a blur of a middle aged man in a cheap gray suit. Directly beside him, dressed in a Korea University hoodie and basketball shorts, sat Jeon Jungkook. Eyes just as round and doll-like as in photos. 

Nari grabbed him by the hair and began walking back towards the others. Hopefully Jungkook was blessed with a nice, strong scalp. She could just barely hear the banker crawling behind them over Jungkook’s yelps and hisses. He let out a pained grunt when she kicked him over to splay out across the floor. 

“Which one of you,” she aimed the barrel of her gun at the tellers, “is gonna escort me down to the vaults? Hm?”

Crickets. Just as Nari thought there would be. 

A crazed laugh snuck from between her teeth, “Don’t all volunteer at once! Listen, I get it. You just need a little motivation is all.”

She dragged her aim slow as Christmas across the fearful faces of the patrons scattered across the floor, humming in mock indecisiveness as she did. Just to her right, she trained it between Jungkook’s massive eyes.

His mouth fell open in what she could only describe as genuine fear when she yanked him up, once again, by the mop of shiny black hair on his head. He nearly toppled over in his haste to stand, but she righted him and pinned his back to her chest. His head bent back at an odd angle because of their height difference, but Nari was still able to wrap a strong arm across his neck. The barrel of her gun nestled neatly against Jungkook’s temple.

“I’m gonna ask again. Who is gonna take me to the vaults?”

“I-I will,” Jungkook’s banker best friend shakily spoke. Sweat gathered along his balding head, “I...I’ll take you. J-Just don’t hurt the kid, alright?”

“No,” the young man in Nari’s grasp finally spoke. He was shaking all over, his face white as a sheet, “N-No, Mr. Yoo, you don’t have to.”

Nari almost believed him. He was a good little actor. 

She jerked her head towards Yoo, “Get up. Bring your keys.”

On the hurried walk to the door, she called to Namjoon, “Bunny.”

The name almost didn’t register, but after a half a second, her accomplice peered at her through the holes in his rabbit mask.

“Keep them in line.”

He gave a thumbs up before barking threats at anyone who breathed too loudly.

The whole way down to the vaults, Nari’s heart pounded in her ears. Like walking through the door reminded her that she was in a time crunch. 

When they reached the vault, she sneered at Yoo, “Open it. Go. _Hurry.”_

His hands shook so badly that she wasn’t sure he would be able to, but he did. 

It swung open with a creak, and she ushered both men into the cramped space with a few swears and threats to their lives. Once inside, she felt her pride swell fat enough to squeeze against her ribs. All that money. Just waiting so patiently for her. 

“L-Let the kid go,” Yoo pleaded. “Let him go, I did as you asked.”

She drew a deep breath and shrugged, “If you insist.”

Yoo hit the ground before Nari could even register that Jungkook had moved.

He glared down at the man, brow pinched and jaw set like he was deep in thought. She thrust a bag into his hands, “We don’t have time for self reflection. Just grab money, and check the stacks for dye packs. Less money is better than no money and severe burns.”

“How much time do we have?” he asked, thumbing through bills and shoving pack-free stacks into his bag.

She checked her phone with a grimace, “Six minutes, tops.”

He paused, both hands full of cash before shaking his head with a muttered, “Fuck.”

By the time they filled their bags to the brim, they were down to two.

Jungkook carried one bag, and Nari carried the other. Her pistol prodded his shoulder blade as she paraded him and their prize money in front of everyone. In the midst of it all, Jungkook still looked scared and pale. Which was good. It added to the effect.

She tossed her bag to Namjoon and yanked the other from Jungkook’s hands, just to put him in another headlock. He let out a nearly inaudible whimper at the steely cold of her gun on his cheek. She backed towards the exit and took in the faces of her victims one last time, “It was lovely bonding with you all. Have a terrific day.”

Blinding sunshine stinging her eyes never felt more welcome as they sprinted for the van. Taehyung flung the door open for them, and the second they were inside, Nari yanked off the suffocating layers piled onto her head. Mask first, beanie second, wig third. 

“Go,” she ordered Yoongi as she welcomed herself to perch on Jungkook’s thigh.

The tires squealed in defiance. Yoongi had a fresh cigarette dangling from his lower lip, “Tae. How far are the cops from here?”

“Approximately forty-one seconds,” he answered, not looking up from his laptop’s screen. Long fingers danced across the keyboard, “If you take a right up here, you’ll be met with less traffic. We’d get outta here quicker.”

The leader did as he was told.

It was all so much more hectic than any moment she’d shared with Monsta X. It was almost like they enjoyed the thrill more than the spoils they got from the heist. She’d never gone on a mission with other people before. It made her feel...excited? She never thought this lifestyle would make her feel anything other than unbroken focus.

Jimin’s phone rang.

“Hoseok,” he greeted, only slightly less snippy than the last time Nari heard him speak. He listened intently before nodding and glancing at Yoongi. Whatever hidden message was in his eyes, Yoongi seemed to like. He nearly melted against the seat as he continued to drive them as far away from the area as possible. Jimin propped his foot up on the dash and lazily thumbed over the end call button. 

The van was thrown into silence.

Beneath her, Jungkook slumped against the door. Wide eyes gazing blankly out the window, he gnawed on the red and raw skin of his thumb. Clearly a bad habit he had no intention of stopping. He looked so young. So innocent and unsuspecting. Though Nari suspected she would look young and innocent, too, if she was to go without her heavy face of makeup. She would probably look like a child.

But maybe that’s what she was, she thought. She was only a year older than Jungkook. It wasn’t like she was his mother, though her work experience would beg to differ. 

She relaxed a little bit on the thick muscle of his thigh. It wasn’t the most comfortable seat, considering his legs were spread ninety miles apart and bouncing with every bump in the road. She nudged him, “Yah. Bambi. You did good today.”

She nearly tipped over and fell into the bottomless pits of his massive chocolate eyes when they snapped over to her face. 

“I...yeah. Thank you,” he spoke like honey. She wondered how he could function with all that pure sugar living in his vocal cords. The unsure way he talked made her believe that he genuinely felt grateful for the compliment. 

The van pulled off to a diner just at the seam between Seoul and the suburbs. It was a little worn down. The print was fading a bit on the signs that read Sejin’s, and the paint that mapped out the parking lot was barely there. Despite that, there were a decent number of cars in the lot considering it was two o’clock on a Monday. 

The van’s engine hushed to silence when Yoongi removed the key from the ignition. He opened his door, “Nari, how do you feel about waffles?”

Struggling to make out half of what he said after he shut the door behind him, she scratched her nose uncertainly as he pulled open the back door to the vehicle. He waited patiently, not speaking. He wanted an actual answer. 

“Waffles? I…” she hadn’t had them in years. Most of the time her breakfast was something she could take with her on the run or something Jooheon wanted. “They’re good, I guess.”

His mouth twisted in a small grin. Yoongi stepped out of the way for the others to climb out of the car, “Good. Because we’re celebrating.”

Victory. She wanted to scream and sprint around the parking lot. 

He laughed at her bewildered expression, “Welcome to Bangtan.”


	2. Fuck Lotus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nari moves into the Bangtan house and settles into living life undercover. Jimin is a little shit who loves pushing Nari’s buttons. Someone’s past comes to light and forces Nari to face her own. A brief meeting with Jooheon reminds her of her mission, and a bonding night with Bangtan ends in an unexpected friendship.

Returning to the Gardens after that celebratory lunch meant strolling straight outside and calling Jooheon from a payphone down the block as soon as Bangtan’s van was out of sight. The line rang tired and monotonous as it begged for him to answer. 

Just as Nari started to hang up the sticky, greasy phone, the line clicked to life. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello, yes, Mr. Lee,” the coded way of speaking rolled off her tongue like a foreign language she was fluent in. They could never be too careful, what with Taehyung’s never ending knowledge and access to everyone’s secrets. Monsta X’s phones could have been tapped for all she knew. She wrapped the cord around her fingers, “I’m calling to let you know that I won’t be able to come in to work today. I got invited to a party. It’s really important that I be there--my family is all going to be attending.”

There was a pause before he spoke, interest piqued, “Oh? What kind of party?”

“It’s Greek themed.”

Jooheon always spat Bangtan’s name, usually the phrase _goddamn fraternity_ following immediately after. 

His icy grin was nearly audible, “Any other news?”

She eyed the people bustling around the glass booth, “Getting an invite was expensive as hell.”

About half a billion won, if Namjoon’s numbers were correct. The robbery was already all over the news--there was no way Jooheon hadn’t seen. She trusted that he understood, and based on his reaction, he understood just fine. 

He laughed loud and sudden, “Buying your way in is an in nonetheless. Good work. Keep me posted.”

And then the line was dead. 

She sighed and placed the phone back on the hook. At least she was doing well. At least she was making him proud. 

She trudged back into her building feeling exhausted in every way imaginable. Even kicking off her shoes and shucking off her clothes as she staggered towards her bedroom felt like a momentous feat. Her muscles ached with faded adrenaline and her joints creaked from shoving Jungkook around for show. Less violent heists are just as taxing, she’d learned.

She left her dollar store disguise in a trail of black pools of polyester blend that looked like gaping holes in the white marble tiles and flopped headfirst and naked into bed. The sun was still up, but she slept dreamlessly and didn’t stir until her alarm went off the next morning. 

After she was finally able to crawl out of bed and drink a cup of coffee, she started to pack. She was moving in with Bangtan. 

There was something puzzlingly cathartic about gathering her things from that expensive apartment. Stuffing only her favorite things into a couple of bags and boxes before carting them down to where Lim waited in that shiny Benz SUV felt like an odd weight was lifting from her shoulders. A pressure sinking her deeper into the ground that she never noticed. The sheer relief of it made her uneasy, because she wasn’t entirely sure why leaving behind something so grand felt so great. She felt like she should’ve been heartbroken rather than relieved. 

Yoongi told her that she was more than welcome to continue living at the Gardens until she felt closer to everyone, but she merely brushed him off and explained that there was no time like the present. In reality, Nari was diving headfirst into her mission. When it came to fulfilling Jooheon’s orders, there was no slow and easy way of going about it. You either did it before he finished his command, or you ended up sunk and bloated in the Han River. Living with strangers wasn’t exactly Nari’s top pick, but it was what had to be done. 

She hauled the boxes and duffle bags to Lim all by herself--something that she hadn’t done since she was eighteen years old. A solid nearly-five years. Even if her muscles were stronger now than they were when she was eighteen, she was still huffing to the point of dry heaving by the time she reached Lim at the roundabout on the third trip.

“Miss Oh,” the driver smiled at her when she slumped against the side of the vehicle with almost enough force to dent it. “Tough morning?”

Dark irises slid to the corner of her eye in a dead, cutting stare. His wheeze of a laugh at her expense made her mouth curl at the edges against her will, “You could say that, yeah.”

He lifted her first box and headed towards the open trunk, “Moving house is always stressful.”

A loose and half assed nod tossed messy hair to stick to her sweaty face. She groaned at the sizzling heat of the midday sun and gestured towards her building, “Give me an hour--I’m going to get ready.”

One shower and a full face of makeup later and she was bounding back and slipping into the backseat. 

She’d never been to the Bangtan residence. She’d only seen one single photo of the place, and it was from an aerial view that gave her little to no idea what to expect other than a lot of trees and a pool out back. Strangely enough, it was one of the few things she had little knowledge about. The nearly nonexistent information available for the place they called home was undoubtedly thanks to Taehyung. The man’s technological genius made Nari question what else Yoongi’s team had hidden away from prying eyes. 

Lim followed the GPS’s every word and carried them outside of Seoul and into the suburbs. The mountain on which Monsta X’s mansion sat so proudly was in the complete opposite direction, maybe an hour outside of the city. Nari had never ventured into the territory because of the stern and final way Jooheon claimed that everything she could ever want was on Monsta Mountain—and knowing it was true, she stuck close to home. But now, as plenty of normal looking neighborhoods passed them by, she could somewhat see the appeal of living there. 

A couple of fathers stood tending to the grill in the afternoon sun as their wives chattered their ears off while they had a few sacred moments to talk to an adult instead of a short person obsessed with Sesame Street. Children played in their front yards, happy and blissfully unaware of the criminals living a stone’s throw away. Brightly colored toys scattered along the grass like fallen soldiers, some bound to be forgotten and fated to soak in the rain.

The kids’ bright and happy smiles made Nari’s cheeks hurt. She couldn’t remember a time as a child when she felt that much joy. All she could remember from her life in America was the shooting pain of her father’s knuckles and the day her mother’s white shirt turned to red. She supposed it was good they were smiling instead of being forced to flee the country for their own safety. 

Soon the cookie cutter subdivisions came to an abrupt end. In their place, and where Lim turned, was the appearance of a towering brick wall with sloping cursive writing that read Kingston Ridge. The car paused at the gate just long enough for Lim to enter the passcode Yoongi sent Nari that morning. The slow, graceful swing of the gate welcomed them like they were old friends. 

Lawns stretched for what felt like a quarter of a mile and were a healthy, crisp green rather than the typical midsummer charred brown. Each house was pristine, not a smudge of paint out of place. They were smaller than Monsta X’s mansion, but she didn’t expect them to be of the same grandeur. Nonetheless, they were beautiful. Well kept, obviously expensive for the average person, and not a single car older than a 2016 model sat in any of the driveways. 

Well, except one. 

The smallest house in the whole subdivision—that was still not small in the slightest—sat right at the end of the road. It was directly across the street from the largest home in the neighborhood, which was where Nari figured Lim would pull in. To her surprise, he turned into the driveway on the right. The smallest house in the neighborhood with the ratty white pickup truck parked right outside where the long driveway met the shuttered garage. 

A battered white Chevy pickup, a silver Corvette Stingray, a black 2018 Honda Civic, a silver Chevy Avalanche, and what appeared to be a matte black Porsche. Quite the array of tastes. 

The house was equally as beautiful as the others, if not more so due to the way the small patch of woods stretched from the silky black asphalt of the cul de sac all the way to wrap around the perimeter of the fenced in backyard in a forest green, rustling blanket. Painted gray and trimmed in stark, pure white with a welcoming porch that housed two rocking chairs and a potted plant on either side of the front door, the place looked like the last place where the mafia would lay their head to rest. But somehow the idea of them living small, laying low, seemed absolutely genius.

All Nari had ever known was luxury and gaudiness—something people surely noticed in public and questioned how someone could afford a lifestyle like that. 

At the sound of the engine cutting, the front door opened to reveal a barefooted Yoongi. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips, his processed hair standing on end like he’d been lounging in bed all day, and his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his sweats. His eyes squinted in the sun as he nodded towards Lim venturing around to the back of the car for Nari’s things, “Lemme help you, I’ll carry the heavy ones, sir.”

She tried to recall a time when she had seen Jooheon in anything other than a suit.

The sun’s heat scorched Nari’s skin and made her start to feel slippery under her bra. The back of her neck was already beginning to get claustrophobic from the tickle of her hair, “Thanks. I tried to just pack the most important stuff, but I guess it’s still a lot.”

“Well,” he heaved the box further up his ribs, unlit cig bobbing as he spoke, “you packed lighter than Jimin would have.”

The three of them were able to carry Nari’s things inside in one single trip--much less taxing than the first time she hauled them. 

The breeze of cool air creeping through the open front door nipped at all her exposed parts and made her shiver as they stepped inside. She took everything in, from the dark wood floors that were more than likely manufactured to look worn and rustic, to the massive flat screen mounted on the wall of the living room, to the laughably huge stainless steel refrigerator in the kitchen. It was the perfect medium between luxury and practical. 

Yoongi glanced back at them as he led them towards the stairs, “Your room will be up here. We had one spare. Taehyung moved into Namjoon’s room a while back.”

Nari quirked a brow. She couldn’t wait to hear the explanation for that.

Their footfalls hit loud and jarring, though the noise did nothing to disturb the fat orange tabby cat stretched and lounging across one of the top steps. 

“Move, Cheddar,” Yoongi prodded him with his foot and sent him scurrying away. 

The loud announcement of their arrival had two bedroom doors swinging open to gape at the new edition to the house. Taehyung grinned and waved, to which Nari responded with a small smile. Jimin, however, leaned pointedly against his door frame with his arms crossed. A barrier from any potential advances, Nari presumed. 

“Hey, Jimin,” she edged warmth into her voice in hopes of thawing him. 

He gave no reply other than daggers in his gaze as he bent down to where Cheddar made a beeline for him to scoop the chirping animal into his arms. 

“This,” Yoongi stopped in front of the third bedroom on the right side of the hall and nudged the door open with his hip, “is your room.”

He stepped inside and set the box and duffle he carried on the floor. 

The room was about half as spacious as the one in her apartment. The window was big enough to let the sun stream in to illuminate the flurries of dust floating through the air. The bed was a queen—stripped bare of any sheets or blankets. On the walls were a few old posters and pictures of Taehyung, several bald spots giving away the fact that others had been taken down. A few of him and what Nari guessed was his family, but the rest were just...Tae and a man. Some smiling, some goofy and laughing. One of them kissing. The dresser and bookshelf were almost completely cleared of knickknacks and baubles. 

The pictures must’ve been left intentionally, she thought. 

Too-big, knobby hands rested on Yoongi’s hips as he gave the space a sweep with his sharp eyes, “Sorry, there’s a lot of Tae’s stuff still in here.”

Nari and Lim placed their boxes on the floor next to the others. The driver tipped his hat and slipped out with a goodbye faster than she could respond. 

“It...it’s fine,” she spoke honestly. “I really don’t mind.”

“You can decorate it however you want. Paint it, for all I care,” he took the cigarette from between his lips and held it between his fingers as he scratched at the curve of his shoulder. He didn’t meet her eyes, “Make it your own. I know being the only woman in a house of men probably isn’t ideal. But we’re grateful to you.”

She nearly scoffed. Jimin had a funny way of showing it. However, the notion that she had free reign in her own space made her feel oddly soft. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she smiled and let her eyes linger on the photos. She opened her mouth to ask about them, but Yoongi cut her off. 

He walked over to the closet and rapped his knuckles on the shuttered doors, “The...the doors won’t stay on the tracks. Sorry. They’ve been through some...wear and tear, you could say. It’ll still hold your clothes, though. I guess that’s all that matters.” 

She nodded, “It is.”

An awkward silence fell between them, and he fluffed the processed, bleached hair at the back of his head. She wondered if he was genuinely this kind to people or if it was all for show. He was the leader of a crime family, she doubted it was as real as he let on. No leader in the business is actually kind. 

“I’ll let you get settled in,” he put the smoke back in his mouth and spoke around it. “Feel free to do whatever. Make yourself at home.”

The second he shut the door behind him, she plopped onto the bed and stared curiously at the man next to Tae in all the pictures. Something about them unsettled her. She wondered if she would ever know his name or why Taehyung decided to lock him away behind a closed door. Tae was a man who embraced open doors—he did everything in his power to open them himself with the power of technology. Why did he try so hard to forget him? Why did Taehyung feel so haunted by the photos on the walls that he moved in with Namjoon as an escape? 

Maybe she didn’t want to know. Maybe she didn’t feel like she should. 

——————————

“Yoongi?” Nari knocked on his door just hours after her arrival with the force of a summer breeze. “Yoongi--oh. Hi.”

He stood half awake in the doorway with sleep swollen eyes and red lines across the side of his face, “Hm?”

Guilt burned her face and ears, “I… Could you… I don’t have a car.”

He fisted his eyes, nose scrunching up in an attempt to force himself awake, “Yeah?”

“I was wondering if you could drive me to go get some things for my room?”

He glanced at his watch and swore under his breath in a disgruntled gripe, “I laid down for two fucking seconds and I slept for three hours--”

He stretched with a groan and retreated into his room to rummage around. Nari remained outside, too awkward and unsure to invade his personal space.

In a moment, he was back with a stack of bills. He held it out to her like it was anything but three grand in cash, “I have work to do. I would drive you, but I’m on a time crunch now. Take this and use it to help pay for whatever you get. I know you have money, but...I dunno. Wanna be a good host. Or something.”

She took it with slow, questioning hands. Before she could respond, he was walking past her and padding down the stairs. She followed blindly like a duckling trailing behind its mother.

“Jungkook!” he bellowed loud enough to wake the dead with a voice still thick with sleep. “Jungkook-ah, c’mere.”

The door right at the bottom of the stairs eased open, Jungkook’s round eyes peering around the corner at them, “Yeah?”

“Take Nari to go buy a car and some stuff for her room.”

They stopped outside his bedroom door, and Nari peeked around the silhouette of his muscled frame. Posters. Posters. And more posters. Something that looked like a beanbag chair, and an ungodly sized monitor that illuminated the entire bedroom with the glow of a paused video game. A normal twenty-one year old guy’s bedroom, she guessed. 

The man looked at war with himself—battling something out in his head and chewing on the inside of his cheek out of nerves. His fingers drummed on the outside of his thigh as he stood rigid in the middle of his own doorway, and Nari couldn’t help but to give him a questioning look when he seemed to zone out and transport to another dimension for ten seconds. Whatever was on his mind, it weighed heavy and had him uncomfortable. 

She wondered if his acting while playing a scared hostage during the robbery wasn’t actually acting at all. 

A puppy barreled out from behind his door, all clumsy limbs and golden fur. It skidded on the hardwood and stood on its back legs, little nose barely reaching above Jungkook’s knee. It let out the mightiest yelp it could muster as a thick paw prodded at his thigh. 

“Sora Girl, what’re you doin’? Huh? You’re bein’ so bad,” His voice pitched up in baby talk while he bent down to heave her into his arms. With a giggle and a strained attempt to lean away from her loving licks and nips, he grinned flushed and embarrassed. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “Sure. Lemme just...get my keys and shoes and stuff.”

She grabbed her purse and shoved the cash deep inside as she followed Jungkook outside to his vehicle. By then, the sun was just beginning to dim as it crept closer and closer to where the sky met the skyscrapers jutting dagger-like and black against the horizon. Cicadas screamed somewhere in the depths of the trees behind the house, like an orchestra of overly excited children in the distance. The neighborhood didn’t even feel like a part of Seoul anymore. Too dreamy and sluggish in the wavering heat to be anything but a mirage. 

The lights on the black Honda Civic winked in the twilight. Nari blinked in surprise. Most twenty-one year olds would blow their fortunes on the nicest car they could afford.

“So you’re a Honda kinda guy?” she mused after she ducked into the front seat. “I figured the Porsche would be yours.”

The corner of his mouth quirked in a crooked half smile as he buckled his seatbelt, “Nah. Too showy for my taste. The Porsche is Hoseok hyung’s.”

Hoseok. The man who barely said two words to Nari during lunch after the robbery. The man whose hard and frosty eyes froze Nari to the core in a way that rivaled Jooheon’s. The whole lunch was spent with him glaring at her over his omelette. He didn’t trust her. She knew that much. That was clear from the quick cut of his eyes any time he thought she wasn’t looking. Jimin’s cold shoulder was out of hurt pride, Hoseok’s was his undeniable, fine tuned gut instincts. Hoseok’s distrust was because he was smart. Not emotional. She was sure it would take longer to make him trust her, and that in itself was a dangerous game to play. The more suspicious he was, the easier it would be for him to somehow dig and put two and two together. 

“He’s got expensive taste.”

“Yeah, well,” Jungkook’s expression subtly soured as he pulled out of the driveway. “Hoseok’s loaded. Inheritance from a dead aunt or something. I’m just saving up in case something happens to my dog and she’s gotta go to the vet for a long time.”

The pure disdain in his voice made Nari snort, as did the subtle way he melted at the mention of his puppy, “So. The Dog Dad is jealous.”

His ears burned a fiery red, doe eyes widening as he sent her a quick glance, “N-no. I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

His lips pursed into a thin line, a silence falling between them. Not quite uncomfortable, not quite relaxed. That awkward plane between feeling like you could get along with someone and knowing next to nothing about them. From what she could tell, he was on the fence about her. Unsure of whether the hatred two of his teammates felt for her was enough to make him feel the same. Too polite to be outwardly mean, but too pigheaded to let her win him over yet. 

The aura radiating around him made Nari feel at ease in some way. Some way she couldn’t quite explain. He was dangerous. She knew what he was capable of—knew he’d killed a respectable amount of men to get where he was. But despite that, he maintained an innocence that was similar to Taehyung’s—though not as pure. He was corrupted by the business, but still managed to get scared by the power he wielded in his scarred, pink hands. She could see it written plain as day on his face that day at the bank. It intrigued her. How someone could have that duality when living the life they did. But then again, from what she’d seen, most of Bangtan was all about duality. Both man and monster—the realms of day and night. 

He was so quiet. Sulled up and locked away inside his own head, clearly turning her comment about his jealousy over and over like a stone. Nari almost wished he would turn on the radio, but the low hum of the engine and the white noise from the wheels on the road was kind of pleasant, even if his guilt was louder than the asphalt. 

Jungkook slapped at the turn signal, eyes flickering over to her, “I’m— I— I’m not jealous. Okay? I’m not. It’s his money.”

She made a mental note that accusing him of ill will or negative feelings towards his hyungs made him defensive and played at his emotions. It got him to talk. God forbid one of them think he was angry with them. 

“Yeah, but you wish it was yours.”

“I don’t!” He exclaimed in a tone nearing a whine and turned to face her full on at the red light. He was finally showing some real emotion, and it was all released in pout. He flushed at his little outburst and slowly turned to face forward. He softened the edge in his voice, “I don’t. I just...think it’s unfair that he’s never had to struggle or suffer.” 

Nari’s brows pulled together. Did Jungkook not know about Hoseok’s past abuse? Did he not know about the things Hoseok had seen? How many deep secrets of theirs did she know? It wasn’t her place to spill Hoseok’s secrets. Giving him more reason to have a bad taste in his mouth when it came to her could get her killed. She shrugged, “I’m sure he’s struggled.”

“Nah,” he chortled and pulled into the IKEA parking lot. “He’s had the easy life since he clawed his way out of the womb.”

He didn’t know. 

“He seems…” Nari paused, unsure of how to word it. “Intense.”

The smile that slowly crept across Jungkook’s face was bright and genuine—so wide and toothy that it almost seemed painful with eyes that crinkled at the corners and disappeared behind the rise of his cheeks. He parked the car with a little shrug, “Yeah. You could say that, I guess. He’s scary at first. But once he gets comfortable with you, he’s alright.”

Nari unbuckled her seatbelt and muttered jokingly under her breath, “He and Jimin don’t seem to want to get comfortable with me.”

The man hesitated, mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. 

Nari froze and eyed him, “What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“Well, yeah.”

She scoffed and leaned back into the passenger seat, arms and legs crossing in annoyance. Any member of Monsta X would have spouted it off by then. She was used to knowing everything at all times. She wanted to know. She almost always got what she wanted, one way or another. He would not out-stubborn her, “Don’t be a pussy. Just say it.”

Owlish eyes bulged from their sockets, “I’m not a pussy! You’re just—you’re just kinda scary is all. I don’t want you to rip my balls off and grate them over your salad like expensive Parmesan.” 

The laugh that tumbled past her lips was harder and louder than she’d laughed in what was probably over a year, “The fuck is wrong with you? I’m not scary.”

“You aimed a gun at my head before you’d ever spoken to me. You dragged me across a bank by my hair. You manipulated Jimin like it was nothing and stole his wallet just because you knew Yoongi hyung was watching. You were giddy when you screamed for everyone to get on the floor. And it didn’t register whatsoever that three of the people in the bank were kids,” he rattled off, counting on his fingers. “Need I go on?”

“...Okay, but what of it? What does that have to do with Hoseok and Jimin?” He gave her a look, and she rolled her eyes. “Fine, I sort of see what it has to do with Jimin.”

He anxiously plucked at the peach fuzz dusted along the curve of his cheek, “I just...I think they don’t trust you because…you know what, never mind.”

“You know, I bet your testicles would be delicious with a vinaigrette—“

“It’s hard to see you as a person when you show no remorse for the things you do,” he cut her off. “I don’t know you. You clearly know me more than I know you. But I know enough about you to see that you’ve been desensitized to...all of this.”

She kept her voice flat, “To succeed in the mafia, you can’t let your emotions get in the way. To get to the top, you can’t be weak.”

His eyes fell to his lap as a few beats of awkward silence settled through the interior of his Honda, “I don’t know where you came from. But here, in Bangtan, it’s not about power and wanting to be at the top. This is just the life we were cornered into, and now it’s all we know how to do. Yoongi found us all and recruited us because he knew we were like him, not because he wanted our skills to earn a bunch of blood money. At least, it’s not that way anymore.”

He rubbed his chin and lips, embarrassed and pink in the ears at how fast he spoke, like he’d been keeping it inside from the moment he first saw her. He wrapped the hem of his massively oversized black t-shirt around his fingers, “We know this life is bad. I don’t...I don’t think you do. So I don’t blame them for not trusting you. I don’t think I do, either.”

Nari’s brow creased. No one besides Jooheon had ever called her on her shit before. She supposed it was the fear of her snapping their neck or gutting them on the spot. She kind of admired that he had the guts to speak his mind and be honest—she hadn’t met very many men in their line of work who possessed that skill unless they were waving a knife or gun around. 

“This life got me on my feet. It’s rough, but it works. It’s an art, what I do. It’s messy and dangerous and illegal, but it isn’t bad. Not to me. It saved me.”

He stared blank and unblinking out the window before his shoulders shook in a dry chuckle, “It didn’t save you. It never saves you. It just keeps you alive until it gets you killed. There’s a difference.”

They sat there in the IKEA parking lot for what felt like an eternity. Not speaking or fidgeting or even breathing. 

Jungkook was the first to go for his door handle, “Let’s go. Store closes soon.”

She couldn’t help but feel like she disappointed him. For some reason that made her feel strange. Not nervous like she usually felt when she disappointed Jooheon--it was something different altogether. Something like deep, genuine guilt, though she didn’t know what for. 

The fluorescent lights beamed bright and artificial in the store. Picking out decor was harder than she thought it would be, considering Nari had never really had the opportunity to discover what kind of things she liked or were her style. More than once she had to get Jungkook’s opinion, which was awkward, considering she felt weirdly guilty about disappointing him somehow. Lamps, knicknacks, and smaller decorative pieces were easier. They didn’t matter as much. But the comforter and throw pillows--those were another story. 

Nari stood glancing between two comforter sets with narrowed eyes. Both were good, but which matched her taste?

She turned to Jungkook and held them both out at her sides, “Which one? Hey. You. Get off the phone and help me.”

He rolled his eyes, clearly done with the whole outing when they still had to go buy a car afterwards. He locked his phone and stuffed it in his pocket, “I dunno. Which do you like more?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you.”

“Okay,” he thought for all of five seconds before pointing to the solid gray one. “That one.”

She stared at it for a moment and grimaced, to which Jungkook groaned and looked like he was ready to slam his head against the wall.

“What? It’s boring!” she exclaimed, tucking the package of mustard yellow velvet comforter under her arm and placing the other back on the shelf.

His chest expanded in a deep sigh as he checked his watch, “You have fifteen minutes before the store closes. Choose some pillows and let’s go, please god.”

With Jooheon and Monsta X, she never felt this kind of irritation. It was always everyone bending the knee to Jooheon’s will and never putting up a fight. It was kind of entertaining having someone to banter with and pester, even if she barely knew him. It was a nice change not having to worry about the outcome of saying the wrong thing or carrying the wrong tone when speaking to someone. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember a time in her life when she wasn’t terrified to some degree of upsetting someone. First her father, then Jooheon. But Jooheon loved her, unlike her father. He did. He threatened her and had a loud bark, but he wouldn’t ever hurt her. She knew he wouldn’t. Just because she couldn’t joke around with him didn’t mean that they weren’t a good match. It didn’t mean anything other than he was serious. 

On the way back to the car, bags weighing them down on every side, Jungkook readjusted his hold and spared Nari a glance as he fished for his keys, “So. What kind of car? There are a few dealerships around here, but I don’t know if you’re picky or not.”

She paused in the realization that she had no idea what kind of car she wanted. She knew nothing about cars. Aside from when she was forced into car chases and the like for work, she had her license for the sake of having one--though she hardly ever drove. She never cared about cars.

“I actually don’t know,” she admitted, hoisting her bags into the backseat. “What do you recommend? What do the guys say about their cars?”

The engine revved to life, “I mean, I love my car. But you seem flashier than me,” he pointedly watched her check her bright red lipstick in the pull-down mirror. “Hoseok loves his Porsche. But that price tag is pretty steep. Jimin has an unhealthy relationship with his Corvette. Says it drives really well. Of course I wouldn’t know, because he won’t let anyone else drive it.”

“What about Yoongi?”

Jungkook snorted, veined forearms bulging as he gripped the steering wheel, “The old clunker in the driveway is Yoongi’s. Tae used to be the reigning Piece of Shit Car Owner when he had his old Buick and before his quarter life crisis, but after he got his motorcycle, it was Yoongi. You don’t want to ask him for advice about cars.”

“Taehyung has a motorcycle?” She asked in surprise. Jungkook didn’t respond, which roused her curiosity even further, “What brought on his crisis?”

His dark eyes stayed glued on the road, the muscles in his mouth twitching southward. The wheel creaked with the clench of his fists as he left the air stagnant with an untold story.

“Crisis was a bad way to put it. He’s been through a lot. More...more than anyone should ever have to,” his voice strained faintly in the dark of the car. 

“What happened?” she found herself asking out of genuine concern rather than for the sake of gaining information. He was a nice guy. Probably the nicest she’d ever met, but that didn’t count for much seeing as she’d only known him for two days. Plus, the other men she knew were cold blooded killers.

The car sped up just enough for Nari to notice, blinker clicking measured and consistent to fill the heavy silence. Jungkook’s face was grim, his bangs casting shadows over his eyes. Whatever happened to Taehyung, it didn’t seem like she was going to be able to finesse much intel about it out of the other members. She all but gave up on receiving a response after the fifth minute of silence. Jungkook may not tell her everything, but she would find out eventually. And when she did, it would be something she could report back to Jooheon.

Jungkook rubbed at his forehead, dark hair flopping over the back of his hand. He heaved a sigh deep enough to make the plastic from a pack of cigarettes crammed into his cup holder flutter, “Stick around long enough and he might tell you. It’s not my story to tell.”

The finality in his voice shut down any further discussion on the topic. That was that.

“Listen, I… I’m tired. Do you think you can wait to do the car thing another day?”

She hesitated before giving a faint nod, “Sure. It’ll give me more time to decide on what I want, anyway.”

The next twenty minutes back home were spent in agonizing silence. Just Nari’s even breathing, the hum of the engine, and the whir of the AC. The atmosphere changed so quickly that she wondered if she overstepped and possibly ruined her chances of getting close with Jungkook. Whatever information she could get from him, she needed, and being at odds with him would make it harder to do that. She would have to remember not to ask about Taehyung in the future. Waiting would be difficult, but it would be better than taking one step forward and two steps back with getting close with members of Bangtan. Knowing the sore spot of the trauma would be an easy target for Monsta X, but then again, it wasn’t like Taehyung was their leader. It wasn’t like he did more than hack files for Yoongi. 

“So why doesn’t Yoongi get a new truck?” Nari changed the subject as they pulled through the iron gates of Kingston Ridge.

Jungkook’s stony mask cracked a bit, his eyes creasing with a slow smile, “Because the snooty assholes across the street complained and said that he needed to get that piece of scrap metal out of sight from their windows.”

Nari’s mouth hung open in disbelief, “They didn’t say that! What did he say to that?”

They slowly rolled into the driveway, the porch light acting as a beacon of safety amongst the black shadows the trees cast on the property. When he parked and turned to face her, his eyes shined bright and mischievous. She bit back a snort and opened her door, pausing to wait for him.

“To quote him, ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. I’m not buying a new truck. Stop asking me to buy a new one. Just because you said my truck is an eye sore to the neighborhood, I’m keeping it another six years,’” his voice was deepened to a manly rumble in an imitation of Yoongi and half muffled from the way he stayed in the car to gather his keys and wallet, door wide open. When he emerged and slammed it shut behind him to trail behind her, he shrugged, “He’s just being stubborn for the hell of it. He’s gonna do the opposite of whatever someone tells him any chance he can get away with it.”

Nari didn’t question that as truth in the slightest. Yoongi was not one to be trifled with, especially when it came to Bangtan. She’d heard some stories while learning the ins and outs of Bangtan, and they almost all ended in Yoongi being a savage just to go against whoever had a problem with him. It seemed that his pride was a weak point. 

Maybe that information would come in handy.

\-------------------------

Eight days after her arrival, late into the night past when all the others were asleep, she crept out of her room and into the hallway. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the velvety darkness of the night and sent her unsteadily walking forward with outstretched arms. The hardwood was cold on the bottoms of her feet, and the drywall was silky under her fingertips.

She needed information. She needed something to feed Jooheon, anything that could be of value and help him destroy them. Clearly attempting to learn anything useful by word of mouth this early in the game was going to get her nowhere--it was getting her nowhere. It had never taken her this long to do her job. She had little to nothing to show so far. Jooheon would kill her if she couldn’t pull something out of her ass. 

Nari crept slow and silent down the stairs. The only lights piercing through the dark were from the blue white bulb above the sink and the little salt rock lamp in the far corner of the living room. The soft glow illuminated her way to the office just off the living room. Yoongi’s office. 

She turned the knob and pushed the door with a silent prayer that the hinges were well oiled and good at keeping secrets. 

More darkness that was quickly scared away by the flick of a light switch. The office was small and offered just enough room for a single desk and a single book shelf. It was certainly nothing like Jooheon’s study. There wasn’t a high backed leather chair or an ornate mantel or priceless first edition books. Its purpose wasn’t for show, it was solely meant for work.

The desk chair was cold with lack of use and made goosebumps breed along her legs as she settled herself before the monitor.

“Alright, Min, let’s see what you’re planning,” she muttered under her breath. 

Keys clicked and tapped under her skilled fingertips. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. She wasn’t sure where he would store sensitive information. Nari just knew that whatever Yoongi had hidden away would keep her alive. She searched through folders and folders and folders and found nothing. Literally nothing--as if the computer was freshly bought. The only folders she saw were titled things like “Recipes” or “Family Photos.” Which was a farce, because she saw Yoongi working diligently for hours on that computer for days on end. 

She clicked on the one called “Family Photos” and smiled to herself. She hit the motherload. 

All the information she could ever want. Files on the six members under Yoongi, all of the men working as their capos and soldiers and associates. Every single person who Yoongi had ever allowed to join or worked with. The blinding white glare of the screen reflected in her eyes like a spark of triumph. Files upon files of men and how they were connected to Bangtan, hardly any seemed more important than the others. Mules, and dealers, and suppliers, and women Yoongi hired regularly for filming porn. It wasn’t until the very bottom of the page that she found a file that made her raise an eyebrow.

A photo of a thin middle aged man with a military haircut and a scar cutting through the corner of his mouth. Kim Kwangmin. Stationed in Shanghai as an arms supplier. Connections in the United States, China, and Korea. All because Bangtan’s long time client, Choi Seunghyun, wanted arms to help keep his booming human trafficking business in line. But Nari knew for a fact that for years, all Bangtan had been dabbling in was pornography and drugs. A sudden change of direction that Jooheon clearly knew little to nothing about. 

Monsta X’s business relied on skin and drugs. Which was why he was working so hard to end Bangtan, to end Yoongi. They were skirting into Monsta territory in terms of swaying clients. And in Jooheon’s mind, if they were able to steal clients from a mob as strong and powerful as Monsta X, they were a problem. That being said, before he made them all wish they were never born, he wanted information on all their current and potential clients so that he could monopolize the business. So that he could be back at the top. So that he could be king. 

If Yoongi began sticking his hands in other areas, that gave him more connections and more power. It made Bangtan even more of a threat. 

Nari clicked away from Kim’s file and let her eyes linger on the final file in the folder. When she clicked on it, it asked for a password. She swore under her breath. There was something important in there. Something important enough that Yoongi saw fit to password protect what was inside--more important than just “family photos.” She shivered. Something didn’t feel right.

She was going to find out what was in that folder. One way or another.

\----------------------

Days came and went. Her time was spent planning and working with Yoongi in his office--without ever finding out what was in that file--or training at the gym that an associate of Bangtan owned and let them use for free. The fact that she’d been there a full three weeks already and not only made marginal progress in growing closer with the others, but also had yet to gain any important intel that Jooheon would want to hear anything about—it scared her. This was the least alone she’d ever been in her life, yet she’d never felt more frustrated and stranded while working a job. Normally she was able to make leaps and bounds of progress within the first few days. She had to keep reminding herself that this was a different breed of a mission. 

The only peace she got from stress was when she was sleeping, which was surprisingly much harder to get when living in a house with Bangtan than living with Monsta X. They were louder, rowdier, and all around closer as a family and a team. It was strange, seeing as she always thought Monsta X’s way of doing things was the most efficient. She guessed since she’d never been around another crime family so closely before that she just never had a chance to see flaws in where she came from. An idea to suggest some changes to Jooheon crossed her mind, but after entertaining it for a moment she realized he would never change the way he ran the business just because she said to. Plus, the way Jooheon ran everything ensured silence in the wee hours of the morning. 

Unlike Yoongi, apparently. 

The noises roused her from sleep. When her bleary eyes checked the iHome beaming with white light and digital numbers, she groaned at the time. 2:53am. Too damn early to wake up and too damn late to have guests. 

As the muffled thumps and moans continued, she rolled out of bed and threw open her bedroom door--pantless and fueled by the sheer rage from being woken up so rudely. The open door magnified the desperate whines and dull slaps of skin on skin so that they were deafening as they seemed to barrel down the dark hallway. Her sleep-swollen eyes dragged themselves to survey her surroundings. 

The light under Taehyung and Namjoon’s door flickered blue with the light of the muted Tv--just as it did every night. Yoongi and Jin’s rooms were quiet. She squinted and glared down to her immediate right. Jimin.

The sounds grew louder as she stepped into the hallway, the broken cries of “Fuck me, Daddy--” loud enough to make Nari want to gag. She thought back to how eager to please and needy Jimin was when she seduced him at the Galaxy and held in a laugh. 

_Call him Daddy all you want, sweetheart, he most definitely isn’t one._

The flat of her palm slapped against his door. It rang out like a gunshot in the darkness, and seemed to summon Cheddar from the depths of the night, calling him running and meowing needily at his owner’s door. She felt a twinge of guilt for what she was sure would be waking up everyone else. She yelled, “I know it’s hard to think and reason when half your blood supply is away from your pea brain and living in your dick, but it would be swell if you could shut the fuck up at three in the morning!”

The sounds stopped for a brief moment before a deafening bang made her jump, as what was undoubtedly a shoe rocketing into the wood from the other side rattled the door to its hinges. Within seconds, the pornographic moans picked back up at what seemed to be twice their original volume. 

Anger burned hot under her ribs. She banged on his door again, harder than before, and spat a venomous, “I’m gonna kick your ass, Park Jimin!”

Down the hall, two doors swung open to reveal zombified versions of Yoongi and Seokjin--both too exhausted and fluffy with sleep to look like anything other than boys. They made their way down to where she was threatening Jimin within an inch of his life with little to no urgency.

“Wa’s goin’ on?” Yoongi garbled through a yawn.

“Jimin’s up fucking some girl’s brains out at three in the fucking morning,” she seethed, resisting the urge to just kick the door down and be done with it. “I was dead asleep.”

Jin nodded, eyes half closed, “I heard it, too, earlier. But I was too tired to get up.”

Guilt made her muscles feel chilly. She knew Jin usually woke up around five to go to work at the hospital. But it was Jimin’s fault, he was the one up and causing a ruckus.

Yoongi took a deep breath and a step forward to bang on the door himself, even jiggling the knob once or twice for good measure, “Jimin-ah. It’s too goddamn late for this, asshole.”

The noises halted on the other side of the door, replaced with indiscernible whispers and mutters. After a few moments of shuffling, the door swung open without warning. Whatever girl Jimin roped into having sex with him bolted out with her shirt on inside out and her heels in hand. 

Jimin scrambled out of his room, still in the process of yanking his boxers up, “Hanna, wait! Baby, don’t go, we can work this out--”

But she was long gone.

His jaw clenched tight enough that Nari wondered if his teeth would crumble to dust. He slowly turned to face her, cheeks redder with anger than the tattoo stretching across his trunk. His eyes ran black. He pointed a finger at her, _“You!”_

He stalked towards her like he had the mind to swing her around by her hair and hang her by the ceiling fan, “You fucking _bitch!_ I was recording for the site! I was making us _money--!”_

She highly doubted that his relations with that girl had anything to do with their porn site, and his adamance made her bark out a laugh of disbelief. 

“Not with the way she was faking it, you weren’t,” she fired back in a snort. “What was she? A hooker? She was probably new, too, that acting would’ve gotten her the starring role in Twilight. Stop lying, you just wanted to get your dick wet and pay for it with Bangtan’s budget.”

The tell-tale veins in his temple and neck cabled dangerously, his hand running through his disheveled hair. Furious satoori leaked into his speech, “You’re not welcome here, and you’re never going to be one of us, so just fucking leave.”

 _“Hey,”_ Jin snapped as he stepped in and tugged her back by her shirt before she could react, “Let’s go. Nari-- _Nari. Downstairs.”_

“Both of you, shut the fuck up!” Yoongi bellowed. He pointed a knobby finger at Nari, “Go the fuck downstairs and learn to keep your mouth shut.”

He turned to Jimin, “And _you._ I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, but I am your leader. Nari is your teammate. Ever since she played you at the Galaxy, you’ve acted like a little bitch. She’s a con artist-- _our_ con artist. You will respect her the way you respect everyone else here, or you’ll get out. Grow the fuck up.”

The silence that followed was suffocating and thick enough to wrap its fingers around her throat. That kind of silence where everyone is afraid to breathe. 

Yoongi cut his eyes at both Jimin and Nari, “Both of you get out of my sight and go the fuck to bed.”

Nari followed his orders without so much as a blink, Jin following close behind her as she marched down to the living room. 

She hated herself for letting Jimin get inside her head, and she hated her lack of professionalism on both ends. As a new member of Bangtan and as a member of Monsta X. If she couldn’t learn to get a grip, she would ruin everything for Jooheon and expose herself. Everything she’d worked for for two whole years would be for nothing. She was supposed to be a killing machine--an emotionless monster who specialized in wiping people off the planet and tricking people into telling her their darkest secrets. She used to believe that’s what she was, too. But the longer she spent around Bangtan, the less professional and the less put-together she was realizing she was. She was sure their odd views on the business were partially to blame, as well as their more emotional personalities. 

Apparently Jooheon was right. Emotions made you weak, and they’d only bring failure in the mafia. 

She sat fuming and bundled to the neck with blankets on the couch. Not even binging Netflix could settle the anger simmering in her gut. Her muscles were tense with the desire to slam Park Jimin’s head against the fancy hardwood floors. 

“He’s not always such a piece of shit,” Seokjin mused from the kitchen as he readied himself a cup of coffee. 

She turned to look at him, still ready to pounce on the next person who pissed her off, “Shouldn’t you be asleep right now?”

He shrugged and wrapped his crooked fingers around the handle, juicy lips pursing, “I had to be up at five, anyway. I was scared I would oversleep if I went back to bed.”

She gave a nod, not entirely sure what to say. Jin wasn’t someone she had the opportunity to spend much time around. He was always working, either at the hospital or handling the drug business for Yoongi. Though his backstory intrigued her, she had little chance to find out much about him herself. One thing she could say for sure was that he’d always been nicer to her than Jimin had. 

He sank down onto the opposite end of the sectional and tucked his feet underneath him like a kindergartener sitting on their reading rug. He took a slow sip of his coffee. His end of the couch was basking in the light of the street lamps outside the window, which made him seem to radiate his own eerie blue green glow in the inky darkness of the living room. The quiet between the two of them only seemed to strengthen the lonely ache that the stillness of the witching hour brings. Jin put down his phone and reached for the remote to turn on the television. 

He spoke without giving Nari a second glance, “So why are you here?”

“Why are you?”

His pretty mouth twisted in an odd sort of smile, “Revenge.”

The tags of the blanket crinkled under her fingers, her eyes taking in his expression. He didn’t look to be emotional or in mourning still, but his family’s murder was a long time ago. 

His smile widened at her silence, “So you’ve heard of my family.”

It wasn’t a question.

She gave a little nod, “I have.”

There was another pause, heavy and weighed with Jin’s internal thoughts. His broad shoulders twitched in a shrug, “They ruined my life. In every way.”

Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, “Do you know who?”

Maybe knowing could help Jooheon. 

“Of course I know who. I knew who did it the second I came home to a house full of bullet holes,” his eyes lost focus on the present and instead took him back to that day. His voice grew flat, “Lotus took everything I loved away from me.”

Nari stopped breathing, her lungs screeching to a painful, lurching halt. Everything around her seemed to tilt harsh and in a blur. 

Lotus. The Dragon. The man she flew across the world to escape. Even in her new home, there was no escaping. Everywhere she went, there he seemed to be. If he wasn’t hiding in the shadows of her mind before bed, he was hiding in the minds of the ones around her. He ruined everything he touched. No one was safe. 

“Lotus?”

He took another sip of coffee and nodded, “My father did the same thing that I do now. Except he didn’t go into the medical field with the intention of having his hands in the drug business. The Dragon came to my dad and asked him to work for him. Offered him enough money to put my brother and me both all the way through college and still have more than enough left over. He just….made a shitty call. And it got him killed. It got everyone killed.”

Nari felt like she might faint. Like she well and truly might throw up or black out or both. Her lungs felt like her father’s own hands reached into her chest and squeezed them tight enough to burst. 

Her mouth was cotton and sand, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s done. I let my pain over it ruin my life even more,” he softly said. “Namjoon and Yoongi helped me see that things could be okay again. I just have to kill him.”

“The Dragon?”

“Yeah.”

Memories of her life before fleeing flashed before her eyes. Memories of men like Jin who thought they could avenge one of his victims or simply rid the world of him. She knew better than anyone that he was a roach who would never die. 

Sensing the shift in the air, Seokjin stood up with a stretch, “I’ve gotta shower. I’ve got an 8am surgery scheduled.”

“Okay.”

After he left, she lay there on the couch for what felt like forever, though it was probably no more than a few minutes. Her eyes trained on the ceiling as she tried to will her heart to stop racing and her stomach to stop rolling. 

Would she ever be able to live a life that didn’t somehow revolve around her father? Or the mafia? She tried to imagine herself doing anything other than serving Jooheon in an attempt to repay him for getting her off the streets, and everything that came to mind just seemed fake and unrealistic. 

She didn’t even notice when sleep overtook her as she lay in the darkness.

\-----------------------------------------

_Everything seemed to sparkle. Her perfectly made bed where the sheets were tightly tucked and the pillows perfectly aligned to please her father. The rays of sunlight that dimmed and shifted as the sun slowly sank past the horizon. Even her own reflection seemed to shimmer as she gripped the sink in her bathroom, eyes still somehow dull even as the rest of her shivered like a mirage. The fluorescent lighting made her skin glitter, like some sort of underwhelming fairy. Everything was so real—so sharp and high definition that it almost made her head hurt._

_She could hear her parents fighting, and the sounds of their yells were distorted like they were being played back through an old, worn out speaker. Just a little off in pitch and a bit too slow to be normal. Like her head was underwater._

_Ignoring the drone of her parents’ insults, she looked at the girl in the mirror and wondered why. Why she was alive. Why her mother allowed herself to take the brunt of her husband’s aggressive hands instead of letting him hit Nari like he so badly wanted to. Why Nari couldn’t somehow step up and protect her like she’d done for her for almost eighteen years. Why she didn’t have the courage to take the gun from the drawer in the living room coffee table and aim it right between her Daddy’s eyes while he slept. She wondered why she was so weak._

_A loud crack made her jump, but she wasn’t sure why. She knew it was going to happen. Somewhere deep in her bones a timer had been ticking, counting down the seconds until it happened._

_Robotically, her legs carried her towards the sounds scratching and thudding from down the hall. Past the family photos where her face was blank and emotionless. Past the priceless heirlooms and art that sparkled in the mirage. She knew what it was, but her stomach churned anyway. Her palms still sweated and her muscles felt icy. A slick of cold sweat trickled down her spine with every slow step she took._

_When she rounded the corner, her heart flopped in her throat._

_Her father stood over where her mother sat on her knees, coffee table pistol aimed right at her pretty head. The trinkets and knickknacks from the bookshelf and entertainment center were strewn, shattered and cracked, in a mess on the floor. The look in his eyes made her head go fuzzy with fear. The eyes she inherited._

_“D-daddy?”_

_She blinked. Everything was different, but also the same. Her father was gone, but Nari looked on at herself standing before her mother. The gun still gripped tightly in her fingers._

_“Nari, baby, j-just go,” her mother pleaded through a snivel of bloody snot and tears. A bright red slice sent blood trickling from her lower lip, “Please—“_

_The Nari that held the gun looked directly at the terrified girl standing in the doorway and locked eyes with her. A frosty smile curled her lips into a sneer as a look of recognition, of knowing, flickered across her face. Her eyes seemed to glow. It made Nari’s skin crawl._

_“It’s your fault, you know.”_

_It wasn’t Nari’s voice at all. It was her father’s. Her father’s cold, unloving tone coming out of her own mouth. Speaking through her body, using her as an instrument to tie up his loose ends. Her lips moved like they had since the day she was born, and the horror of hearing the low timbre of that voice instead of her own made her encroach on a dry heave._

_“It’s your fault,” her knuckles were stark white against the menacing black of the weapon. “It’s your fault.”_

_“Sh-shut up,” she whimpered, hands covering her ears. It was pointless--she knew it was. That hateful, piercing voice drilled into her skull and bounced around like a heartless echo. Tears rolled down her cheeks, “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!”_

_“It’s your own goddamn fault.”_

_The ear splitting bang of the gunshot painted the living room walls red._

Strong hands shook her awake.

Someone was screaming. So loud and horrified that it barely sounded human. She couldn’t see. 

“Nari! _Nari!_ Wake up!”

It was her that was screaming. 

The moment that she realized it, she closed her mouth and quieted her screams to uncertain whimpers. Teary, wide eyes opened to see someone hovering over her, their face twisted in worry. 

“What happened? Are you hurt?” Jungkook spoke over her wild hiccups. 

She couldn’t speak, the only sounds she was able to form being broken snivels. 

It was her fault. She got her killed. And then she fled, and no one was even leaving flowers on her grave to honor her. She didn’t even know where her mother was buried. She abandoned her after she spent eighteen years trying to protect her. 

She shoved at Jungkook’s hands in a blind terror, but he gripped her wrists and pinned them over her head. He let her cry, hovering silent and concerned over her. 

From somewhere out of her line of vision, a door opened. 

“The fuck is going on? Is barely six in the fucking morning.”

Jungkook’s round eyes looked over at the visitor, “I think she had a night terror or something. I got it, Hoseok hyung.”

Nari ignored the muttered expletives as he padded back down to his space in the basement. 

“Breathe. It wasn’t real—“

“Yes it was—“ she almost soundlessly choked out. A gasping sob clawed at her throat as she uselessly fought against his hold on her wrists, “It was— It was real—“

“It wasn’t,” he insisted. “Nari. Open your eyes. Look at me.”

She forced herself to do as she was told. His hair nearly tickled her face as he leaned over her, the golden skin of his chest exposed and shirtless, and his sweats hanging low on his hips. He had been asleep, judging by the swelling in his eyes and lips and the lines from his pillow along one side of his cheek. 

Guilt was the only thing that allowed her to compose herself. Within seconds she swallowed down any trace of the tears she shed, the only giveaway the red splotches around her eyes and the drying wetness on her cheeks. All expression melted away from her face, and she stopped fighting against him. 

She cleared her throat, “Let me go, please.”

He sent her a strange look, but slowly loosened the grip his warm fingers had on her. He sat back on his heels and watched uneasily as she sat up on the couch, “Are you...okay?”

“I’m fine,” she swiped at the tears soaking her lashes, voice unnervingly steady. “Can I borrow a cigarette?”

“You can have one. I don’t want it back when you’re done.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

The sky was just barely beginning to light up off in the distance. The sun was nothing but a suggestion of light against the horizon. They were sitting by the pool just so Nari could forego putting on pants to please the snooty neighbors, and she was glad Jungkook suggested the idea. She was even more thankful that he wasn’t making her feel strange about her bare lower half. At least he was somewhat mature. The pool chair allowed her to stretch out and try to force her muscles to stop trembling, and the hum of the air conditioner on the side of the house was the white noise she needed to distract from the way her father’s voice played over and over again in her head. 

She didn’t usually smoke. She’d only ever tried once when she was fifteen. She didn’t understand why people did it. Not when it tasted like socks and made her cough for ten minutes. But seven years later, she understood. Every nerve and muscle relaxing as the nicotine filled her lungs made her understand. She could get past the smell and taste as long as she got that numb relaxation that pushed all her monsters back inside her closet, especially when Jungkook’s vice seemed to be menthols. 

Sora sprinted around the slowly illuminating backyard, excited pants fading in and out of earshot as she flitted back and forth. She was more than ecstatic to be up and about before the sun was up.

Jungkook gave a tired laugh around the filter of his own cigarette when she dragged a stick far too big for her small body to him, a prideful bounce in her step. As he bent down to pick it up, Nari noticed a tattooed set of wings stretching across his shoulders and spilling over onto the backs of his upper arms. Black and gray shading that made him look like some sort of fallen angel. He didn’t seem like the type to have a tattoo, let alone something of that caliper. 

Her brows raised when he tossed the stick across the yard to humor Sora and exposed yet another tattoo. A small phoenix along his ribs--red, yellow, and orange flaming wings stretched in flight.

It was the same tattoo that Jimin had, only his was three or four times the size and stretching from the cut of his hip and along the side of the trunk of his body to soar across his pec. Jungkook’s was small enough that his arm covered a good deal of it when resting at his side. 

Looking back, she could recall little flashes of red and orange peeking out from the neck of Taehyung’s shirts. Subconsciously, she wondered if it was a symbol of the Bangtan mob that all seven men inked onto their skin.

He glanced over at Nari as he breathed out a cloud of smoke, “You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“You were screaming about your dad.”

She felt her jaw twitch as she flicked ash onto the concrete, “He’s a piece of shit.”

Smoldering cigarette loosely perched between his fingers as he leaned his elbows onto his knees, his eyes slid over to watch the side of her face. He was picking her apart. She was supposed to be doing that to him. 

“What’d he do?”

She wasn’t sure what made her say it. She shouldn’t have. But the words fell out before she could lock them away, as if she’d been waiting for someone to ask those very words for the past five years.

“He shot my mom in front of me. Three times. Head, chest, and gut.”

He stared, an odd look shadowing his features in the light of the creeping sun. His head ticked to the side, bedhead bouncing as he drew another pull of smoke. The rasp of his sleepy voice was barely loud enough for her to hear as he exhaled a fog, “Fuck, that’s...that’s rough.”

Shoulders shaking in a dry chuckle, she took another toke, heat from the cherry prickling her fingers, “Explains a lot, right?”

“Yeah, it kinda does.”

Her face burned hot and flustered. She never talked about her past. She could count on one hand the amount of times she opened up to Jooheon. She didn’t like talking about it, she didn’t like people knowing too much. Jooheon was her boss and lover, and he only knew that her father slaughtered her mother in cold blood. Jungkook, damn near a stranger, knew more than someone she’d been living with for five years. It was a strange comfort, and Nari decided to embrace it.

Jungkook fidgeted in the silence, “At least he’s locked away.”

She bent down to snuff out the butt of her cigarette, “I wish.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She stood up and flicked the butt into the yard before turning and walking towards the house. She called over her shoulder, “Thanks for the smoke.”

\------------------------------------------------

Nari hadn’t seen Jooheon in almost two months. She missed him, but to say that she wasn’t nervous about meeting him would be a lie. When she saw the unknown number of his burner phone fash across her screen, her heart leapt into her throat. She felt like she knew so little. The lack of information she’d been able to compile on Bangtan was the reason she could hardly ever sleep, and consequently the reason she overslept when her alarm went off that morning. She couldn’t be late or risk disappointing him even further than she already had, but convincing someone in the house to let her borrow their car was much harder than she initially thought and ended up adding nearly twenty minutes to her time. 

She really needed to buy a fucking car. 

Thankfully, Jungkook was able to be bought. All it took was the promise of good beer and pizza before Nari was able to speed back into town and make her way to the location. Of course, as a ruse she told the whole team that she was going to a gynecologist appointment to keep them from asking questions, and, just as expected, most of them blanched and begged her to stop talking about pap smears and speculums. 

Jooheon chose to meet in a park, smack dab in the middle of the greenery in hopes of avoiding CCTV cameras where Taehyung could see, if he was suspicious. Nari knew he wasn’t. He was probably the person in the house who trusted her the most, judging by the way he stayed up with her watching horror movies when she couldn’t sleep the night before. But Jooheon wanted to air on the side of caution. 

The mid morning sun had long since begun its relentless attack on Seoul, making everything beneath it slick with sweat and discomfort, even in the shade under the bright green trees. There weren’t too many people out that day, most of them opting to stay cool indoors and far away from the humidity. Only one family played together in the blistering sun, mother halting all games every half an hour to slather more sunscreen on the kids, and father guzzling an ice cold beer during the breaks in the fun. 

Other than that, it was quiet and empty aside from where Jooheon sat at a picnic table hidden in the shade of a tree. 

He looked up at her, out of place and dressed in his designer suit despite the heat, as she sat across from him. His wintry aura seemed to cool the heat of summer by ten degrees. Deadly hands clasped in front of him on the weathered wood, his pursed mouth souring, “You’re not wearing lipstick.”

She blinked, “I didn’t know cosmetics influenced my ability to get shit done.”

He reached across to hold her hand just a little too tightly in his, black eyes hard as stone as they watched her expression for the wince of pain she masked so well, “No, but looking your best reflects on your professionalism and on _me.”_

He brought her hand to his lips in a condescending kiss. 

Anger simmered and threatened to boil over inside her, but she managed to take a deep breath and smother it, “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me what you know.”

Her jaw tensed painfully as she licked her lips, “I don’t have much intel on heists or work. Nothing more than Yoongi is planning an arms deal with Choi Seunghyun. But I do have information on weaknesses.”

“Arms?” his jaw clenched with a flare of his nostrils. “Their fields were pornography and the drug business.”

“He’s been doing business with Choi for almost a year now, as you know. But Yoongi found a supplier in Shanghai with connections to the US, and Choi is willing to pay any price Yoongi names to get his hands on those guns. He’s practically drooling over it. He wants to take his business to the next level, and scare tactics and reinforcements are the way to do that.”

He looked deep in thought, as if Yoongi’s deal with Choi was a problem for him personally. After a pregnant pause, he spoke, “So Min is branching out.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me more,” he ordered.

“I have nothing else on business. Just men.”

“Go on.”

“Kim Kwangmin is who Yoongi is working with in Shanghai. The name didn’t sound familiar to me, but I wasn’t sure if you would know him or not. He seemed important because he was the only one in black market weaponry.”

Jooheon’s expression shifted to a terrifying mask of stone. His aggressive silence made Nari glance up at him expecting some sort of comment, a snide remark, anything. But he remained silent. Uneasy, Nari continued.

“Jungkook can’t stand the thought of people thinking he has negative feelings towards his hyungs. He also can’t stand inequality—Hoseok inherited money from a dead aunt and Jungkook’s green with envy. He doesn’t know about Hoseok’s trauma, and he thinks he had everything handed to him. He hates that he’s jealous, but he is.”

Jooheon nodded, rubbing at his chin, “Okay.”

“Not much information on Namjoon as far as weaknesses are concerned. But Seokjin...it was Lotus who wiped out his family. He’s in the mob for revenge. Emotionally charged vendetta. It’ll make for fuck ups on his end because his emotions will get in the way.”

“Continue.”

“I’m Yoongi’s weakness. He’s adamant about the guys accepting me and respecting me. He’s making them push away their uncertainties.”

Jooheon smiled, “You managed to con a con artist into unknowingly screwing his own team. Good work.”

A small half grin curled her mouth, “Well, Jimin and Hoseok still don’t trust me. Jimin especially. His pride and ego are nauseating, he only despises me because I played him that night in the Galaxy.”

“Why doesn’t Hoseok trust you?”

 _Because I’m a snake._

“Because he’s smart.”

His eyes were black ice, “Your job is to do everything in your power to make them trust you. Fuck them. Laugh with them. Break bread with them. I don’t care what you have to do—make the smartest of them fall in love with you.”

Her eyes bore into the crumbling wood of the old picnic table, a hardworking picnic ant holding her attention. Frustration threatened to crumble her composure, but she managed to keep it together. If only just. 

“Nari,” he gruffly pushed. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Jooheon, I understand.”

“Good. Tell me more.”

She thought for a moment, unsure of what else she could say. She was ashamed of the fact that she learned so little, but it was the best she could do. If she’d pushed for more, it might have looked suspicious. Things had to be taken slowly.

She took a deep breath and picked at a split in the table, an odd feeling settling in her gut, “Taehyung is the weakest link.”

Jooheon’s brow arched in curiosity, “How so?”

“I don’t know,” she slowly admitted, cheeks heating. Her eyes shifted to the family a few dozen yards away when the youngest child let out a shriek of joy as his father chased him through the grass. “No one will talk about it. All I know is that my room used to be Taehyung’s room, but he moved in with Namjoon. I still don’t know why. I know it has to do with who I assume is or was his boyfriend.”

A light flickered behind the black veil of his piercing irises, his head holding high and proud for a reason Nari didn’t understand. The ghost of a smile haunted his pillowy lips, “Whatever haunts him must be horrible if not a single man will talk about it.”

She gave a single, uncertain nod, “It must be.”

There was a beat of silence before Jooheon stood from the table in a wordless end to their meeting, “Work harder. Find more.”

He walked around the table in slow and measured steps to bend down and tilt her head up by a grip to her chin. His kiss was just as frosted with ice and mint as she remembered, and something deep inside her ached to be home with him. Another part of her wanted nothing more than to please him in whatever way he asked.

“I love you. Don’t you dare forget where you belong.”

\------------------------------------

She spent the rest of the day mulling over her meeting with Jooheon. It was good to see him, even if the meeting lasted less than an hour and all they talked about was her mission. She had to be better, had to work harder. She had to up her game and convince Bangtan that she was one of them. That she was worth trusting and worth having in their gang. Seeing Jooheon was good. It was, truly. It reminded her of her goals. Jooheon’s threats and stern talking to made her want to excel.

Even if seeing him made her so anxious and stressed that all she wanted was a cigarette and a stiff drink. 

Napping on and off throughout the day to make up for lost sleep that her rambunctious new roommates leached from her, she reveled in the time alone. It was much needed after the months of constantly tensed muscles and a clenched jaw because of Jimin and Hoseok’s dirty looks. Not to mention the constant weight of her mission itself.

Jooheon’s words rang in her head in a never ending string of repetition. 

_“Your job is to do everything in your power to make them trust you. Fuck them. Laugh with them. Break bread with them. I don’t care what you have to do—make the smartest of them fall in love with you.”_

Nari curled herself further into her mustard yellow comforter and groaned. She would have to throw herself at one of them. Someone she could actually stand to be around--which eliminated at least one member. Anxiety crept into the pit of her stomach. 

Her usual jobs for Jooheon were much, much easier. Get in, get out. No one needed to be alive for more than just a few days--and that was the unusually long jobs. Most commonly, she was able to get in, make them swoon, and pull the trigger before midnight. This was different. The challenge was starting to scare her. Nari was used to going about her work like a dance. The song haunting and beautiful, the choreography intricate in its simplicity. The end of the song was always in sight, each step and move telling her how far away she was from the encore and the fall of the curtain.

This was a marathon. She was not a runner.

A knock sounded on the other side of her door.

She sighed and poked her head out from her blanket burrito, “Yeah?”

“It’s Jungkook.”

“So come in.”

There was a brief pause before he turned the knob and peeked around the door, dark hair soaked to the scalp and hanging limp in his face from his shower. He pushed the door open and leaned halfway into her room, nearly hanging with one hand on the doorframe and one on the doorknob. His bare feet stood on their tiptoes as he swayed further in and out of leaning with an expectant look on his face, “What are you doing tonight?”

Her brows furrowed as she gestured to her cocoon, “Uh...I was planning on just doing this.” 

“Okay, but _what if,”_ he straightened himself to stand like a normal human being and leaned against the wall, “you came with all of us to the Galaxy tonight. Yoongi wants everyone to go out and bond.”

He waited, expecting her to say something. Anything. But instead, she blinked up at him and waited for him to continue. He motioned to her in evident annoyance, “With you. He wants us to bond with you. Meaning you would have to be there for the night to be successful.”

“That sounds like I would have to wear makeup and a bra.”

A dopey smile made his eyes scrunch up. His shoulders bounced in a shrug, “I mean...you can do whatever you want. It’s 2019. Free the nipple.”

A genuine laugh bubbled in Nari’s chest, her first real smile of the day making her cheeks ache, “Wow, what a feminist icon.”

“So you’re coming?”

“I didn’t say that,” she made a face and lay back into the plush mountain of pillows behind her. “I don’t wanna go out.”

She could hear, rather than see, Jungkook padding closer. Inwardly, she rolled her eyes and groaned. The edge of her bed dipped with his weight, “To be _the_ Oh Nari, you’re incredibly boring.”

Feline eyes threw a glare over the covers, “I’m fun.”

He snorted, “Yeah, okay.”

With the swiftness of a lightning strike, she smacked the side of his head with her pillow, “You’re an ass.”

A loud, brow-raisingly ugly laugh belted out of the man standing up from her blanket fortress as he blocked her subsequent hits, “You owe me, Oh. I let you borrow my car. Instead of beer and pizza, I want you to come drink with us.”

She swore under her breath. She owed him. To earn his trust, she had to at least pretend to be a woman of her word. Goddammit.

“Fine. But don’t expect me to have fun.”

He strolled towards the door and looked back at her with an eyeroll, “Yeah, god forbid you enjoy yourself for once.”

Getting ready was like trying to pull her own teeth out with a pair of pliers. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to be pressured to drink too much and somehow accidentally blow her cover at the slip of her tongue. But she forced herself to slip into the hypnosis that those steps of putting on a face brought. She slowly felt herself becoming Oh Nari. She felt herself begin to get excited to go out, or at least come to terms with it. She slipped right into character the way she was supposed to.

Halfway done with her makeup, Nari was yanked out of her trance of concentration when Taehyung calmly passed through the open door to her bedroom carrying two shot glasses.

He was dressed to the nines already, brightly patterned silk shirt tucked into his slacks. A thin gold chain dangled around the thick of his honey colored neck, the chain laying protectively over the sliver of red and orange and yellow ink peeking out over the slope of his left shoulder and collarbone. His overgrown brown hair curled at the nape of his neck like a little duck tail, and Nari fought the urge to reach out and attempt to smooth it. 

“For you, m’lady,” he handed her a shot of what smelled like tequila. 

“Pregaming?” she smirked and took it from him. 

“Absolutely. We have to make life as hard and unpleasant as possible for Hoseok hyung since he’s our DD tonight,” he started to bring the glass to his lips before pausing and grinning. “Well, tonight and every other time we go out.”

They downed the alcohol together, both of them wincing from the taste. 

Tae shook his head like a dog and let out a little hiss, “Wish I had a lime.”

Nari sputtered and laughed at the way her eyes threatened to water.

Two more pregame shots for Tae, a finished face, and a little red number with a plunging neckline later, and she was on the way to the Galaxy crammed in the sleek black van that normally stayed locked away in the garage. Seven adults, sans Seokjin who was working as per usual. 

Nari was stuck smack dab in between Jungkook and Jimin in the very back row of seats. The mix of their colognes was intoxicating, and she couldn’t be sure if it was because it smelled good or because the sheer amount of cologne swirling in the vehicle was potent enough to incapacitate Andre the Giant. Which, truthfully, Nari didn’t mind. She prefered too much cologne over not wearing any and smelling like balls and cigarettes the whole night.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Jimin. His black hair was pushed off his forehead to expose a set of lethal, scowling brows that Nari had never paid much attention to. The white button up he wore was unbuttoned to mid chest and tucked into a pair of ankle length black pants. His thick lips were pursed in a spoiled pout as he avoided her gaze and fiddled with one of the many earrings he wore.

She went out on a limb.

“You look nice, Jimin,” she murmured, voice sweet. 

He shot her a look of surprise, eyes widening the slightest bit. The airy quality to his voice was softer this time--less angry, “Thanks. So do you.’

Awkward silence thickened between them within seconds, but at least it wasn’t tense with boiling, stroke inducing rage. Nari could deal with awkward. It was a decent jumping off point. At least for the night, she had a feeling that she didn’t have to worry about a fight with Park Jimin. 

Jungkook elbowed her jokingly, “Nari and Jimin have now been replaced by two mature adults. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Jimin reached across her to slap Jungkook on the chest, a flush reddening his cheeks.

The awkward air between them lasted only as long as it took to step through the shining doors of the Galaxy, soon replaced by Jimin’s frat boy esque enthusiasm for getting everybody wasted. It made Nari uneasy, but she figured it would be easier to just go along with it. She’d kept her cool in more compromising situations than downing a few drinks.

Eventually, Jungkook sat next to her in the VIP section of the club as she sucked down her second long island iced tea.

He stared at her drink of choice for a moment before letting his brows knit together and yelling over the thump of the music, “Are you trying to get white girl wasted tonight?”

“Always,” she yelled back and raised her glass, locking eyes with him as she drank.

He held up his telling and nearly empty brown glass bottle and gave it a little shake, “I’m taking it slow.”

She cupped her ear and squinted, “What?”

He scooted closer so their thighs were touching and turned his head to speak directly into her ear, “I said I’m taking it slow tonight.”

The tickle of his breath on her neck made her shiver, “Good choice.”

Through the crowd of people, Nari could just make out Taehyung and Yoongi sitting side by side at the bar--Tae’s broad shoulders and large frame dwarfing Yoongi’s by a mile. She laughed into her drink when Yoongi gave the younger man a fatherly pat on the back.

In the haze creeping over her mind, she briefly wondered why Taehyung wasn’t out dancing. He was pretty enough to have whoever he wanted--man or woman. Then she thought back to the abandoned picture frames in his old room. 

A sight on the dance floor pulled her attention away from solving all of Taehyung’s mysteries. 

Namjoon, Jimin, and Hoseok had all managed to round up women to dance with. Namjoon and Jimin were already drunk and sweating in the shifting colored lights shining overhead as they pressed their bodies into who were undoubtedly strangers before that night, their movements lacking inhibition or worry for anyone else’s judging eyes--mainly because of the countless shots they’d thrown back like it was their job. They were hot, horny, and more than likely more well off than the women grinding on their dicks, which was exactly _why_ the girls were so enthusiastic about letting the two of them have their way with them right in front of the entire dance floor. Nari couldn’t hold back a snort at the faces of the innocent bystanders as Namjoon not-so-nimbly moved his hips against his partner.

However, Hoseok was the complete opposite. His body rolled against the undeniably beautiful woman in his arms, not the least bit impaired and completely in his right mind. Lingering hands ghosted along her hips, her thighs, even her throat. She visibly melted into him wearing a look of pure ecstacy from his touch alone. Her eyes fluttered at every brush of his lips to her neck, the deep and sensual thrum of the bass only fueling their needy touches and making his grip on her even tighter. The look of utter concentration and desire clouding Hoseok’s expression made Nari realize that even if he hated her guts, he was still ridiculously hot.

She averted her eyes after what felt like years when the girl turned around in Hoseok’s arms and hovered her mouth over his. She openly palmed him for all the world to see.

“Who do you think is getting laid tonight?” Jungkook grinned as he sat back down with a tray of six tequila shots and something fruity with an umbrella that was probably drowned in rum, voice barely reaching her.

She raised a brow, “What happened to taking it slow?”

“Time is relative. Take a shot. Half of these are yours.”

Instead of questioning him, she downed a shot and looked back at the dance floor to accurately make a prediction. She craned her neck for him to hear her better, finally feeling loose and warm from the liberating buzz of alcohol. Her speech was just the slightest bit slurred, “All three.”

“All three?!” he scoffed and pointed to where Namjoon had obviously spilled a beer on himself and turned his white shirt nearly completely sheer. The countless tattoos that littered skin seemed to cut through the fabric as he apologized, thick tongued and red faced, to the curvaceous bombshell he’d been dancing with. Jungkook gave her an incredulous look, “You’re insane.”

“They’re all hot!” she laughed and gestured wildly at them. “And rich. Well...rich to a college aged girl. Which seems to be what Namjoon and Jimin snagged. They’re young and dumb and think they’re gonna marry them or change their lives or something. College girls are dumb. I’ll bet you twenty bucks they all get fucked.”

Soft, flushed cheeks raised in a smile. A muscular arm snaked around the back of her seat so he could lean down easier, “You didn’t go to college?”

“Nope,” she yelled, maybe a little too loud. “There was no need for me to. Who needs a degree when you can join the mob?”

He shrugged with a laugh, “You’re not wrong, I guess.”

“Did you go to college, Jungkook?”

The corner of his mouth twisted south, his nose scrunching as he shook his head, “Couldn’t afford it. Dad didn’t want me to leave the nest, anyway.”

For some unknown reason to her tipsy brain, this made her sad. He should’ve gone to college. He deserved to go. He was smart and nice--smart and nice boys should go to college. They shouldn’t be caught up in murder and crime.

Her vision was just beginning to blur, her limbs growing heavy and clumsy with the weight of her drinks. Even her face felt numb, like it was actually a mask instead of her own. Her smiles felt rubbery and foreign, but something about the numbness felt nice. It was a nice relief from the constant tension she felt in her every joint and muscle. 

Nari grabbed a shot with what she thought was the small remaining sober portion of her brain and held it up to Jungkook, only a little spilling down her hand when she did, “Oh-- shit. Take this shot! You can’t make me take shots and then--oh.”

He snatched the glass and drained it before she even finished. He wiped his pink lips with his thumb, eyes narrowing in a grimace, “Tequila is so gross.”

“Then why did you pay for it?” she laughed.

He shrugged and grabbed another shot. Nari could’ve sworn his ears grew bright crimson before he spoke, the drawl of satoori slathered thick along the roof of his mouth, “Tequila makes me dance.”

He downed the liquid courage with less of a look of disgust than before.

“You’re gonna regret drinking that much later,” she covered her mouth to stifle an ugly, drunken laugh. 

Jungkook’s round doe eyes were glassy and unfocused as he waved her off, his legs spread wide as he slumped further down the royal purple leather of the booth, “‘M fine. ‘M a man, Nari, I can funnel an entire crate of Bacardi if I want to.”

“Oh, a man? I couldn’t tell.”

Taking one last sip of his fruity umbrella drink to drain it empty, he clumsily leaned over to speak over the song that was just starting over the speakers. A pink, pouty mouth brushed her cheekbone, “You wanna dance with me? We should dance. We’ve been here so long ‘n no one has even asked you to dance!”

Nari’s palms prickled in a nervous sweat, “I dunno, Jungkook--”

“Come onnn, you can’t spend the whole night sitting here. That’s so boring, don’t be a sad sack like Yoongi and Tae. Just one dance, _please?”_

Her head didn’t want to. She needed to eliminate all forms of distractions from her mission, and the more time she spent around him, the more she knew for a fact that he was most definitely a distraction. Had she been sober, she probably would have felt in her gut that nothing good could come from dancing with Jeon Jungkook. But she was nowhere near in her right mind. Not with god knows how much liquor coursing through her veins and those stupid, chocolate, sparkling eyes staring all pretty and pleading at her. 

He leaned close enough that she could smell his cologne and the sickeningly sweet scent of syrup from his drink on his breath, his voice that same low honey that it always was, “Please, noona?”

Goddammit, Jeon Jungkook.

“Yeah, I’ll dance with you, Bambi.”

\--------------------------------------------

Not long after, Hoseok rounded everyone up and threatened them within an inch of their lives to start heading towards the car. Nari and Jungkook stumbled together all sweaty and glowing pinkish purple in the flashing neon signs of the club, her heels in his hand and his muscled arm draped over her shoulders in a too-hot-too-sticky way that would’ve made her punch him had they been sober. Especially because he was leaning so heavily on her. But she secretly liked that he was using her as his own personal walking stick, not that she would ever tell anyone. She didn’t even mind when he stumbled and nearly made her trip. Or maybe it was her that tripped. She wasn’t sure.

The group walked in a herd, slow and lumbering and irritating Hoseok to the point of stalking ahead of them to crank the van. 

“Get in. Namjoon, zip your pants,” he ordered as he sat with his legs dangling sideways out the open door of the driver’s seat, dead inside and regretting that he couldn’t handle his liquor whatsoever and was always forced to cart them around. When Nari stepped close enough, she found herself ogling at the disturbingly dark bruises littering his neck. The shameless girl he danced with must have been raised as part vacuum. “Go. Get in.”

They ended up in the exact same seats as before, which Nari wasn’t too happy about. She wanted to rest her head against the window. 

Jimin slumped into his seat, fumbling clumsily with his seatbelt as he exclaimed with a thick tongue and eyes that barely qualified as being open, “Ever’one. I wan’ you to know. I had the good sex with a pretty lady tonight. Right on the st..stairs goin’ to the second floor. Thank you. You’re welcome. Feel free to compliment ‘n congratulate me. This has been a PSA.”

The drive home consisted of Namjoon and Jimin babbling nonsensically and Jungkook staring blankly into space. Something about his expression reminded Nari of when a pet stares at nothing and then everyone claims they must’ve seen a ghost. Yoongi reclined back in the passenger seat, out cold and unresponsive by the time they pulled out of the parking lot. Taehyung sat with his pretty head resting against the window, deep in thought and not speaking to anyone. 

Even in her drunken state, Nari realized why Jooheon always called Bangtan a _goddamn fraternity._ She thought she knew before, but after going out with them, it was even more obvious. 

Also in her drunken state, she realized she hadn’t thought of Jooheon for hours. He hadn’t even crossed her mind.

Before anyone else was even inside, Hoseok had already disappeared into his basement. Nari thought that it must be his Bat Cave, only instead of dressing up in a costume to fight crime, he _was_ crime and he hurled insults at people. At least he wasn’t quite as harsh about her presence as he once had been.

Jungkook staggered past her with Sora trailing behind him. His brows sat low on his face, his eyes half crossed and eyelids drooping low, “I gotta...I gotta let Sora out.”

He tripped into the wall with what he thought was a whispered swear, “I gotta let her out, noona--”

She stood on wobbling knees to head to the kitchen for a bottle of water, “So let her out.”

“M’kay.”

She padded after him and laughed when she noticed that he hadn’t even turned on the porch light before walking to the backyard. 

With a flick of the switch, she followed after him and not-so-gently collapsed into one of the pool chairs. She could see his silhouette standing stock still in the middle of the yard, still dressed in his nice clothes as Sora yipped and scampered excitedly around him. In the darkness past where the porch light reigned strong, she could see him crouch down to be at the dog’s level to pet her. His voice floated back faint and soft to where Nari lounged before pitching in a yelp of his own when Sora’s eagerness knocked him over to land on his ass.

Nari spluttered out a snicker, which grabbed Jungkook’s attention, “Yah! You! No...no laughin’ allowed-- My dog just viciously attacked me!”

“Gimme a cigarette,” she called through a grin.

Jungkook slowly pushed himself up to stand, reaching into his back pocket as he made his way over to her, “You’re getting real bossy. I just wan’ you to know that.”

She took two cigarettes out of the pack and lit them both before handing one off to him. He let out a hum of appreciation and plopped into the chair next to hers. The blue glow of the pool shifted and danced across his handsome face like the beams were tracing each individual feature and reveling in the honor.

She looked up at the sky and sighed. It was beautiful, truly. Even when her vision was lilting slightly, the moon and stars wrapped in their cape of midnight blue were just as breathtaking as always.

“I drank too much,” Jungkook groaned, fisting at his eyes. Sora hopped up into the chair with him and rested her head on his thigh. At the sight of her needy sad eyes, Jungkook began scratching her head, “Nari noona let me drink too much, Sora Girl. I don’t feel good.”

“Here,” Nari nudged him with the chill of her water bottle. 

He shook his head defiantly, “No. I’ont want it.”

“Then don’t complain when you self destruct.”

Jungkook took a long toke off his smoke and looked over at Nari, cheeks and ears still burning bright red in intoxication and the kiss of sweat shining across his brow from the heat of summer nights, “D’you get scared in that room?”

“What room?”

He exhaled long and steady, “Tae’s room.”

Her brows furrowed, “Um. No? Why would I?”

“‘Cuz there’s a ghost in there.”

Her interest piqued. She sat up straighter and leaned in, eyes wide, “Really?”

“No,” he flicked ash and kept his eyes trained on Sora’s content face as he massaged her ears. “But Taehyung wishes there was.”

All those pictures left behind. The glow of Taehyung’s boxy, toothy grin in all the pictures with that man. Nari needed to know.

“What happened to him, Jungkook?”

There was a pause, long and tense as he rolled the filter of his cigarette between his fingers. A memory played behind glassy eyes that Jungkook focused so intensely on that she could almost see it herself. 

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, “His boyfriend was murdered in their room--your room. Your room was their room. Buncha dicks in masks came in ‘n ruined his life. He was head over heels, man, he really was.”

“You think it was a hate crime?”

“For what?” he dumbly asked.

“Because Tae’s gay.”

“One, no. I don’ think it was a hate crime. We’d been diggin’ into a couple mobs’ records ‘n files. Tryna follow their trails to new potential clients. I think...Tae got too close. It got Leo killed,” He slurred around his cigarette, long fingers waiting patiently for him to finish his inhale so they could perch it between them. His head lolled back against the wicker back of the chair, “Two, he isn’t gay. He’s pansexual.”

“Oh,” her mouth went dry, and she desperately drank more of her water. “His name was Leo?”

He hummed faintly in response, silky hair bobbing in a nod.

Nari tried to imagine the handsome man in the photos as being alive as she took a long, thoughtful inhale. Was he a member of Bangtan? Did he have the Bangtan phoenix branded somewhere across his skin? What position did he have within the mob? Or was he simply just a man who loved another man that got sucked into a life of crime? Did he mind living in a house of eight? She let the smoke creep from her lungs like a deadly fog. 

She forced herself not to imagine Taehyung’s reaction and heartbreak.

Jungkook groaned and let his half finished cigarette fall to the concrete. He freed his legs from Sora’s love and tucked his head between his knees, “I don’t feel so good.”

“You drank enough to kill a horse, Jungkook, I’d be surprised if you _didn’t_ feel like shit.”

“Y’know, I liked dancin’ with you,” he admitted, head still between his knees. “It was nice.”

“Me too,” she said to placate him, though it wasn’t entirely untrue. She did have a good time, “Drink some of my water.”

“No. I don’ wan’ any,” he insisted like a child.

“Then perish.”

He unfolded himself and swung his legs over the side of the chair, muscles in his back tensing and flexing as he shifted. He was still and unmoving for a moment before he spoke without turning to face her, “You’re not goin’ anywhere, are you?”

“No, not right this second.”

He paused again, standing suddenly, “Good. I’m gonna throw up.”

“You’ve decided to?” she snorted. 

He shook his head insistently and continued to stand awkward and wasted on the edge of the grass. 

Nari bit back a laugh when he sprung forward in a bolt over to the trees clustered together across the yard and stood to make her way over to him, yelling, “So throw up.”

“Don’ watch me,” he called, leaning over the roots of a misfortunate tree and folding over in a gag.

Nari rolled her eyes and turned away to preserve the dignity of the man white knuckling his own knees, “Don’t worry, Bambi. I’m not watching.”


	3. Bare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nari’s cover is almost blown and she’s forced to prove her loyalty to Bangtan once again. She takes a long look at the sins she’s committed in her line of work.

Her head throbbed in a pace that matched her heartbeat, but twice as strong. Any shift or stretch made the world around her seem to roll and sway as if she were at sea. Even with her eyes closed, knee deep in the throes of sleep, she could feel the slippery, tacky feeling of her unwashed face and fading makeup catching on the pillow where she rested her head. Nari really and truly prayed that she put out a glass of water for herself in the midst of her drunken stupor, but she was too hungover and tired to even open her eyes to check.

She couldn’t quite remember everything from the night before, but fuzzy and hazy memories teased the frayed edges of her mind. Pulses of purple light, a drink with a little umbrella, and the all consuming warmth of Jungkook. She tried to remember exactly how she ended up dancing with him, but all she could recall was the way he practically snorted tequila because he claimed it made him dance. A tiny nagging curiosity in the back of her head wondered if he was trying to drink enough to gain the courage to ask her to dance, but she pushed that thought away. Like he so adamantly insisted all cross eyed and thick tongued, he was a man. He probably just liked partying--he was young, after all.

It was a mistake. She knew dancing with him was a mistake. A bitterness settled over the back of her tongue because somewhere deep in her bones she knew she was a snake. Snakes are cold blooded. They sunbathe and relish the warmth because without it, they get too cold and freeze to death. She was a snake, and Monsta X was a creeping frost. Anything above freezing was a welcome sensation. She didn’t know Jungkook very well, but she knew she trusted him. She trusted him not to kill her. She couldn’t say the same for anyone in Monsta X. It made her stomach jumpy and her mouth sweat. 

A flash of the way he looked pulling her into him on the dance floor entered her mind. Pink cheeked, loose with a heavy buzz and toeing the line of being just a little too drunk, and his smile wide enough that all his teeth showed. 

Nari shivered at the memory. It was like his furnace-like heat radiated into every inch of her as his hands grazed over her exposed flesh. Slow and gentle and respectful, even when he was pumped full of god knows how much liquor. Like he knew he was just a visitor stopping by, rather than a permanent resident that was allowed to come and go as he pleased. Even the graze of his nose along the column of her neck and her cheekbone was soft. 

The only thing that wasn’t soft about him was the way his muscles flexed under his shirt and the suspiciously firm crotch of his jeans as he--

Nari’s aching body jumped at the heinously loud blare of music.

She sat up, heart racing and body uncomfortably warm under the thick comforter where she’d curled up through the night. Her bloodshot eyes blearily took in her surroundings. She wasn’t in her room at all. She was in Jungkook’s. 

He was face down and shirtless on top of all his blankets--jeans still on and the prickle of goosebumps rising across his golden flesh. Sora somehow managed to jump onto the bed through the night and wiggle under where his tattooed arm dangled off the edge of the mattress for an all night cuddle session. It would’ve been a much cuter sight, had Nari not wanted to strangle him and throw his phone out the window.

He made no move to turn off the obnoxious alarm, so she sat up on her elbow and reached over to pinch his nose shut with her thumb and forefinger.

After a moment, he jerked awake and yanked his head away from her touch, anger and confusion wrinkling his brow. He looked over his shoulder at her with a look of betrayal, “What the _fuck,_ Nari?”

“I don’t know if you’re deaf, but just in case, My Chemical Romance is screaming to wake you up, Sleeping Beauty.”

He grumbled angrily under his breath as he stretched to grab his phone and turn it off.

Near silence fell over the room, the only sound being the sound of the tv playing in the living room. At least one person was awake already.

Jungkook rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes, a miserable moan rumbling in his chest. His chapped lips begged for help as he rasped, “I feel like someone put my body in a blender.”

Nari hummed in agreement. 

Jungkook moved his arm and looked over at her, expression unreadable. 

She stared back, waiting for him to say something--too exhausted to actually open her mouth.

“I…” he began, worrying his lower lip. Concern slanted his brows, “Did I...Did I tell you something last night?”

“About Leo?” she rolled onto her side to face him. “Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he sunk further back into his pillow and glared up at the ceiling. “You can’t tell him I told you. You can’t. He’s protective of him.”

The way he phrased it made something hurt inside her. Even when the love of his life was long dead, Tae was still looking out for him. Nari wondered if she would ever find someone like that. Someone that would care about her even after she could do nothing more for them.

“I wasn’t going to.”

He sat up and stretched, the clench of his back muscles making his wings seem to shiver and ripple. Without another word, he stood and walked over to his dresser to retrieve a pair of sweats and a comically large black t-shirt. He paused between his bed and the door to his bathroom and awkwardly fluffed the back of his dirty hair, “I’m gonna get a shower. So. Yeah. You don’t have to leave. But. Yeah. I’m showering.”

She gave a faint nod and leaned over to curl up with Sora, who gladly accepted the affection by licking a long, wet stripe up the side of Nari’s face. She blanched with a disgruntled grunt from the cold nose sniffing in her ear and chuckled, “Good. You smell worse than your dog.”

His ears glowed red as he let out a shy hiss, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah….I think I got some vom on my jeans last night.”

“That’s so hot, wow, I don’t think I’ve ever been more sexually attracted to a man.”

He reached just inside the bathroom and grabbed his towel, a devilish grin tugging at his lips as he rolled it up and snapped it at the lump in the covers where Nari’s ass would be. Sora leapt off the bed and weaseled her way to hide underneath, and Nari sent Jungkook a glare for scaring off her buddy. 

He responded with an ugly laugh and his shoulders scrunching up at his ears. All too proud as he shut the door behind him and disappeared into the bathroom. 

Rather than stay in his room, Nari climbed out of bed and padded out to the living room--grabbing her heels out of the floor as she did. 

Some trashy reality show was playing on the tv, a harsh glare bouncing off the screen from the open blinds that no one bothered to close. Cheddar was lazily draped across the back of the sectional, his orange fluff seeming to circle someone’s neck like a living scarf. When Nari walked closer, she was surprised to see it was Hoseok.

He glanced up at her without so much as a greeting, and a twinge of annoyance shot to her gut in a knee-jerk response. 

She’d done nothing to make him hate her so much. She had always been cordial and polite to him, and he had the audacity to snub his nose at her? 

Her frustration fizzled once she remembered that she was there to have them all killed and to steal all their clients, so. She guessed his cautious nature was warranted. 

Her head tilted in curiosity, eyes narrowing, “Hoseok, I know you hate me.”

“I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it,” he didn’t peel his eyes from the tv as he took a long sip of coffee. 

“Why?”

“Because I wanted you to know.”

She crossed her arms, “You know what I mean.”

His glinting eyes snapped to her, an odd light playing in them. A strand of black hair fell over his eyes, “Why do you care?”

She sat down on the couch, far enough away that she couldn’t feel his negativity polluting her already weakened immune system. Cheddar perked up at the shift in the cushions and slinked over to curl up in her lap. Nari bit back a smug smile and looked back at Hoseok, “I don’t. But I’m your teammate. How can we work well as a team if we don’t all trust each other?”

“You don’t like me, either, angel, don’t kid yourself,” he deadpanned, lips quirking in a sort of mocking half smile. 

“I don’t trust you, but I don’t hate you. A zoologist doesn’t trust an injured tiger, but they still want to study and learn from them.”

A nerve in his cheek twitched, a mixture of anger and amusement caught on his features. A sunbeam caught on the apple of his cheek when he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “You wanna know why I don’t like you, sweetheart? You’re a part of Bangtan that Yoongi preaches about trusting and accepting, yet you’ve done nothing. You earned us money on a heist that we could’ve gotten done on our own. You’ve risked nothing to be here. You haven’t even stuck your neck out for any of us. Not to mention the fact that we know nothing about you, when it’s obvious you know everything about us. You’ve had everything handed to you since being here, so, no, I don’t like you very much.”

She paused. He was right. And she knew he was. She still wasn’t entirely sure why Yoongi placed so much faith in her when she knew she was only setting them up for their demise. She had to be vulnerable. Like Jungkook said, she didn’t show remorse for the monstrous things she’d done in her line of work. It was time for her to do something that went against every atom in her, and that was act like a fucking human for once.

“My father made me watch him shoot my mother execution style in our perfect little living room the week before my eighteenth birthday. He beat her for years and she took it because she wanted to protect me,” she glared at the scuffs in the floor. “I was born in Seoul but lived in America until…”

She trailed off and forced her hands to stop shaking at the memories shared with a frenemy. She cleared her throat, “I fled the country and came here. Barely spoke Korean back then, but I had to get away from him. He’s...he’s a powerful man. I had to become invisible so he wouldn’t find me.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just listening. But then he hissed, head cocking to the side and a hand rubbing his chin, “So you’re American, huh?”

“Yep.”

He laughed just enough to be considered as much, “So that’s why you sound kinda dumb sometimes.”

“Shut up,” she gave a half smile.

“I still don’t like you. Or trust you,” he went back to his serious self, though just the tiniest bit less harsh in tone. “And I won’t until you prove that you’re not a threat.”

A dry chuckle shook her shoulders as she stood, “You know, I’ve heard in the real world people don’t have to live and die for each other to prove that they’re trustworthy.”

He shrugged, unbothered, “We don’t live in the real world. We live in the mob.”

\----------------------------------

Nari felt like a new woman after stepping out of the shower. All the sticky residual alcohol and makeup washed away and the aches in her muscles eased in the steaming water. 

When she looked in the foggy mirror, the girl staring back at her was foreign. Less angry and less glacial than usual. Nari figured she’d been melting bit by bit with every day she was away from Monsta X. She was unsure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, considering the scoldings from Jooheon she got any time she was anything less than the epitome of perfection. 

The water droplets streaking down the glass marred her reflection and gave her malformed scars that wiped away with the drag of a fingertip. Girl in appearance, woman in soul. Eyes sharp as ever, even without her cosmetic disguise. The foreign girl wasn’t a stranger. Her bare face was tired and dull with a hangover and impending breakouts. Her lips were soft and pink and creased with dehydration. She was the opposite of everything Jooheon demanded her to be, even if she still bore the black dagger tattoo on her hip that marked her as an eternal member of Monsta X. Unthreatening, soft, plain. Prodding fingers investigated the imperfect canvas of her skin, and with nothing more than her skincare, she cut the lights and left the bathroom. Bare lipped and linerless. 

A twisted sense of smugness puffed up her chest. She was imperfection. The perfect rebellion against everything Jooheon had taught her. She would feel guilty about straying from his wishes later--she always did eventually. But in that moment, she was content with being bare. In that moment, she recognized herself. 

She was Oh Nari.

There was something electric in the air as she headed downstairs. Something she couldn’t quite explain. An eerie stillness that was so cold and empty that it made her stomach ache. 

When she turned the corner, Yoongi was standing in the middle of the living room dressed in a suit--all six capos seated in the various chairs throughout the room with their eyes glued to their leader and dressed in the same fashion. His face was set stony and harsh as his onyx eyes flitted from man to man to man. 

The second Nari appeared, his gaze flickered to her. His eyes were black flames.

“Nari,” he snipped so abruptly that she stopped in her tracks--a bare faced, pajama pant clad girl amongst a pack of monstrous wolves. Every eye in the room snapped in her direction, “Kim is dead.”

Kim Kwangmin. Their arms guy in Shanghai. Mysteriously dead the day after she met with Jooheon and mentioned their branching out into black market weaponry. 

Her stomach dropped. Playing dumb was her safest option.

“He’s an arms guy. We work in the drug business. Why is he important?”

“Because we were going to expand and start dealing weapons,” he clipped. “And now our only supplier is swiss fucking cheese.”

“How?” she maintained her composure with the grace of a true professional. 

“A hit. He hadn’t been working with anyone else in years. Which means,” Yoongi’s crackling eyes never left her face. He wet his lips and adjusted his cufflink, “we have a mole.”

She was over. She was done for. They were all suited up and ready to end her life because she was a fucking snake. Had she not been under the microscope the seven men placed her under, she would’ve sank to her knees. She refused to go down without a fight. 

“He worked in the black market for years, he could’ve made an enemy.”

Yoongi crossed his arms, “Of course he did. But he recently relocated. No one would’ve known that unless they were watching him.”

She didn’t know what to say. Would Jooheon do something so risky and stupid like murder the man Nari’s temporary boss was attempting to work with? Would he put her in danger that way? She knew he would kill her without a second thought if the need arose, but she didn’t take him as the type to foil the job that would ultimately get him power and millions of dollars. What would he gain from killing Kim?

Yoongi redirected his attention to the others in the room, “I have reason to suspect Son.”

“Son Juwon?” Namjoon mused with furrowed brows.

Nari remembered his file. He wasn’t a man whose company Yoongi truly enjoyed, but he was always loyal and got the job done. He had a family and had just gained enough standing within the mob to buy his wife and two boys a new house. She had no idea he was a sleaze--Nari had no proof of that, though. Just the fact that he had the face of the boy next door and a good reputation in their church. There was no way his wife knew what he was. 

“I sent him out to Shanghai to set up our stay there for when we were supposed to meet up with Kim. He was the only person who could have come in contact with him. If he sold us out to someone who wants to clip our wings, they would’ve put a little red laser right between his stupid eyes.”

Relief flooded Nari’s system hard enough to make her knees weak and warmth prick behind her eyes. She wasn’t on their radar. They didn’t know what she was. She was safe--for now.

“We’re gonna get that fucker and see who the fuck he sold us out to,” Yoongi snarled. “We need a plan.”

The others spoke up and offered their input for a plan of action, but Nari was already turning on her heel and heading back to her room. She had to get dressed. Planning gave Son too much time to hide--even though he was more than likely not the one with loose lips, the second he caught wind of Kim’s death he would know Yoongi would come for him because he was the last one to see Kim. Planning gave Son the opportunity to disappear. And Nari couldn’t have that. 

She had to prove herself to Bangtan. She had to prove herself to Yoongi. She had to find Son Juwon. It would be easy. She was Oh Nari.

\--------------------

No one batted an eye when she walked out the front door. Everyone was too caught up in formulating a seamless plan to corner Son to give her a second thought. They were so used to working as a team that they put cooperation above all else. Nari knew better. The best plan is immediate action, if you know your targets well enough. And Nari knew Son Juwon. She’d poured over the members of Bangtan when training with Jooheon, and then continued pouring over them after she discovered the “Family Photos” folder on Yoongi’s computer. She’d never met the man, but she knew him well enough to predict his next move. If she was being cocky, she would say she knew him and his routine better than Yoongi did. 

It was a Sunday. After church, his wife and boys would head to her mother’s house and leave him to have some time alone. Unattended and unsuspecting, he would be an easy target.

Her phone lit up with calls as she grew closer and closer to Son’s house--mostly from Jungkook. More than likely to ask why his car was missing. She would make it up to him. What’s that saying about asking forgiveness instead of permission? 

The screen of her phone lit up again. It was Jungkook. Again. She bit back a grin. He was going to kill her, she already knew. 

The quaint neighborhood was full of perfectly manicured lawns and freshly paved roads that rolled like velvet underneath Jungkook’s tires. In multiple yards lay oscillating sprinklers that breathed life into grass that threatened to give into the scorch of the sun. Nari tried to imagine spending her childhood in a neighborhood like that. Maybe riding a bike to a friend’s house. The thought made her skin crawl.

She turned a corner and Son’s house loomed before her. She parked the Honda on the side of the street and headed towards the front door, her pistol held tight on her thigh and hidden under the skirt of her dress. On the way to the stoop, she channelled her inner broken hearted college girl until she felt the burn of tears sting her eyes. She rang the bell and sniffled.

It took approximately eleven seconds for Son to answer. When the door pulled open, the man’s perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed, his eyes wary.

“Can I help you?”

A little sob hunched her shoulders. She took a moment to compose herself, “H-Hi. I’m so sorry, I know this isn’t a sight you want to see on a Sunday afternoon. But I’ve had the worst day, sir, I recently left my cheating boyfriend and came by the house to pick up the last of my things, and then when I was driving out of the neighborhood, my car broke down.” 

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, “That’s...that’s awful. I’m sorry.”

His response was half genuine. Nari probably should have felt bad for the fate she was bringing upon him, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. It was him or her.

“I-- I’m so sorry, I hate to ask you this, but could you help me with my car?” Nari whimpered, wiping smudges of mascara from under her eyes. She bit her lower lip and stared up at him through her eyelashes, “I can’t ask my ex for help. I...I just can’t see him, not after what he did to me--”

“Yeah, of course,” Son glanced around nervously as if he was waiting around for someone to jump out of the bushes and drag him away. Something inside her smirked. He had no idea what was coming for him. He stepped out from behind the door, “Take me to your car, I’ll see what I can do.”

She walked in front of him, arms wrapped around herself despite the heat in an attempt to appear meek. When they reached the car, she opened the door and popped her hood, “Thank you so much, really. You’re such a good samaritan.”

He walked around to crouch under the hood and examine what was supposedly broken underneath, “It’s nothing.”

She saunted to stand behind him and pretend to be concerned for her vehicle.

“Huh...I’m not really--”

In one swift motion, she freed her gun from its holster and pistol whipped him on the back of the head. He crumpled like he had no bones, all sprawled out across the grease and oil coated metal. Calm as ever, Nari popped the trunk and walked back around to heave him to the other end of the car. He was limp and heavy and for a moment she regretted not asking someone to come with her just for help hoisting him into the trunk. She prayed to whatever god would listen that no one happened to drive by or look out their windows as she duct taped him to hell.

The car was suffocatingly hot when she finally settled back in to drive home. Sweat gathered at the small of her back and under her tits in a way that made her feel slippery and claustrophobic, so within seconds the air conditioner was blasting frigid in a dull roar. Judging by the clock on the dashboard, she’d been gone for just over half an hour. And judging by the nineteen missed phone calls from Yoongi and Jungkook, she guessed they finally decided they missed her. Maybe they finally had a plan. She hated to break it to them that all their plotting was for naught. 

As soon as she pulled into the driveway, the front door flung open to send Jungkook torpedoing towards where she sat in the car--expression stormy and jaw set. His hands were clenched in fists at his sides. She was gonna get an ear full. But at least she wasn’t going to be in Son’s place. She’d take Jungkook’s rage over a slow and painful death.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!” he yelled, snatching they keys from her hands. “You can’t just take my fucking car whenever you want! Who do you think you are?!”

Yoongi and the others lingered on the front porch sweating out their hangovers and watching with interest. She guessed it was showtime. 

Nari crossed her arms, “Are you done? Because Son is overheating in the trunk and I figured Yoongi wanted to ask him some fucking questions before he turns into a raisin.” 

Everyone froze, eyes wide and expressions uncertain.

“What?” Yoongi descended from the porch, eyes squinting in the sun and sweat already bleeding across his upper lip and down the side of his face. “What did you just say?”

“I got Son for you,” she enunciated every word. “He betrayed Bangtan. You wanted him. You got him. I got him for you.”

He stared at her in disbelief, mouth slightly ajar and a crease standing deep between his brows. He scratched the back of his head, “You mean to tell me that you were gone for less than an hour, on your own, and managed to not only locate Son, but get him alone and get him in the trunk?”

She shrugged, “It’s Sunday.”

“What the hell in the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“Sundays his wife leaves him alone to go see her mother.”

He ran a hand over the lower half of his face, “We’re a team, Nari. We were making a plan to follow through safely. _Together.”_

“You were taking too long and it would’ve taken even longer to convince you to let me lead,” she threw her arms out at her sides. “You wanted Son Juwon, you got Son Juwon! I don’t know why you’re complaining. He didn’t deserve the chance to run.”

Yoongi gave her a look before walking over to pop the trunk. He pursed his lips and sucked on his teeth, the faintest ghost of a smile haunting his mouth, “Welp. He’s in there.”

“Of course he’s in there.”

Hoseok blew past her to stand behind Yoongi and look over his shoulder. His face lit up in a laugh, heart shaped lips morphing into the brightest smile Nari had ever seen on him as he gaped at the battered man curled limp and cramped in the trunk. He gripped Yoongi’s shoulder, “Fuck my ass, he’s really in there!”

A sense of pride made Nari hold her head high.

“Change of plans,” Yoongi announced, an odd sort of twinkle in his eyes. “We’re heading straight for the warehouse. We got a real tough game of Twenty Questions to play.”

\--------------------------------------

Rather than transport Son to the van then, Yoongi told Jungkook and Nari to ride together in Jungkook’s car. Which would have been fine, had Jungkook not been giving her the cold shoulder the entire half an hour drive.

Angry hands fisted the wheel as they rode in complete silence. He wouldn’t look at her. Barely acknowledged her, despite her lighthearted attempts at conversation. The only thing he would give her was a flare of his nostrils and the heated way he rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek. 

Nari refused to feel guilty for taking his car. She did it for the sake of Bangtan and to take out the man who betrayed them--or at least that’s what Jungkook was led to believe. If anything he should have been thanking her. For making his job easy, for helping get rid of the problem, for wiping away any uneasiness that he must have felt about her place within Bangtan. He had no right to be angry. Especially not when the goddamn car came back in one piece. What more could he have asked for, honestly? 

She reached forward to turn on the radio and jerked her hand back with a hiss when Jungkook slapped it away without taking his eyes off the road. Her dark, sharp eyes narrowed. “So, what? You’re just gonna pout and ignore me forever because I borrowed your fucking Honda?”

_“No,”_ he bit out, pulling the wheel a bit too abruptly on a turn. “I’m pissed for multiple reasons. Would you like for me to enlighten you?”

“Not re--”

“Good. Let’s begin.” He licked his lips, a deep valley forming between the dark of his brows. “You took my car-- _my_ car--without asking. That’s stealing from one of your own. You went to find, incapacitate, and kidnap a grown man completely alone. In the middle of the goddamn afternoon. In the middle of suburbia, for Christ’s sake. If someone saw you and turned in my license plate, that’s _my_ license plate that cops would use to track them right to our house. Not that Yoongi would say anything because you just gave him the equivalent of the best head of his life in relation to efficiency and business.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She hadn’t thought about his plates. She hadn’t even thought much about the possibility of going in alone being risky. 

Jungkook released a deep breath and rested his elbow on the driver’s side door to rub at the lower half of his face. His expression sagged into exhaustion, still sporting that hangover look when he wasn’t pouting like a child. “You went alone, Nari, do you know how dangerous that is? None of our men are exactly upstanding citizens. Yoongi chooses them for a reason.”

At some point it began to feel like when her mother would scold her as a child. She wasn’t sure why, because Jungkook’s anger and opinions shouldn’t have mattered to her. She barely knew him. But to her displeasure, she couldn’t help but shrink a little bit when he mentioned her putting herself in danger. 

“I was fine,” she muttered as she picked at a stray thread on her dress. 

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

Nari really hated apologies.

“I’m sorry.” The words were foreign and bitter on her tongue. “I should’ve asked before I took your car. I put you and the team at risk. But I won’t apologize for acting fast and getting it done.”

His shoulders relaxed just enough for Nari to notice. “It’s okay. Just don’t be a dick.”

Before she could respond, the car rolled to a stop in front of a large, worn down warehouse. The paint was chipping away and the shutter had more than a few dents that made it hard for Namjoon and Taehyung to lift it up to get inside.

Yoongi and Hoseok popped the trunk and hoisted the mostly unconscious man to loll limply between them. His eyes were just beginning to roll around and flutter behind his eyelids, and he made almost soundless little groans from the painful throb in the back of his skull. The tape stuck across his mouth was beginning to peel up in the heat and flapped uselessly in the breeze. His lounge clothes were so soaked with sweat that the fabrics clung to him and his hair matted against his forehead. He looked like he’d just been plucked from the Han River.  
Everyone soundlessly followed behind them as they dragged him through the entrance, Namjoon pulling the shutter back down to leave them in suffocating darkness until Jungkook flicked on the harsh fluorescent lights that cast an eerie greenish yellow tinge across everything beneath them. There was a single chair sitting ominous and patient waiting for its next victim in the middle of the room.

Nari watched in awe as Hoseok bound Son to the chair. Yoongi shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it to Seokjin. She’d never been a part of getting information out of someone in a group setting before. The only times she’d ever done it, she’d been alone. Alone, and more often than not, half naked from seducing her targets. She’d also never tortured a half innocent man to save her own skin. The whole day was just going to be a day of new experiences and firsts, she presumed. All for the sake of pleasing Jooheon.

As Hoseok finished up immobilizing Son, the man’s eyes fluttered to life. He jumped with a start. Eyes crazed. Half covered mouth licking against the tape with brittle hopes to gain full use of speech. Nari felt an odd twist in her stomach when she heard his muffled pleas. When she saw the way he jerked his tied hands against Hoseok’s expert restraints. She almost wished that Son was guilty. She wished there was reason for her to be putting him through this. But to be fair, she wasn’t even entirely sure how she was to blame. She just knew the only logical explanation was that Jooheon had Kim murdered or killed him himself. But why he would waste time on a man Monsta X had never worked with? Someone who didn’t even involve himself in Monsta X’s means of business? It confused Nari beyond belief. 

Yoongi rolled up his sleeves with a mocking sneer. Son bucked and yanked against his bindings. “Oh, calm down, buddy. We just wanna have a little chat.”  
Nearby, Jimin chuckled darkly. With a deafening and metallic clang, he let his duffel fall to the floor. The sound of an aluminum baseball bat. Taehyung winced at the loud noise. His crossed arms tightened closer to his body and his mouth twisted into a scowl. He glared pointedly at the concrete floors and refused to look at his best friend. 

Somewhere deep in the recesses of Nari’s brain, her instincts told her to go stand beside him. So she did. Every file Nari had ever read on Taehyung described him as being just a normal man. Out of the corner of her eye, he looked grayish green. Like he had bile sitting heavy in the back of his throat. He looked so tense and so uncomfortable. She knew that no one else would soften until Son was long dead. His dark eyes fell on her when she hovered close, and his pale cheeks couldn’t force themselves to raise in any form of a smile. Her hand pressed comfortingly against his back. The warmth drew a release of breath from his lungs. 

Yoongi had long since pulled on a pair of worn leather gloves and squatted down in front of Son. The supposed traitor stared wide eyed and horrified at his boss. Genuine confusion and fear drained all color from his face. 

“So, Son, I bet you can guess that I’m not very happy,” his low voice lilted like a sinister song that echoed hollowly through the warehouse. “A very important potential colleague of mine was murdered in cold blood last night. You knew Kim Kwangmin, right, Son?”

He wilted, eyes sliding shut and a broken little sound catching behind the peeling duct tape.

Yoongi reached up and swatted him on the cheek in a chilling pat, the action dulled by the quiet squeaks of the oiled leather, “That’s what I thought. So what’s gonna happen today is we’re gonna ask some questions, and you’re gonna give us answers.”

He stood tall and gave Jimin a little nod. The younger man almost eagerly dug through his duffel. Pulled the scuffed red and black bat free. He weighed it in his palms. Did a few practice swings. The metal looked out of place in his hands when he was wearing a perfectly tailored suit. His form was impeccable. Nari absentmindedly wondered if he used to play before committing to a life of crime. 

The leader ripped the tape from Son’s face. Gripped him harshly by the jaw. Rough. Unforgiving. Before he could wince or breathe or make a sound. His voice was a threatening growl, “If you have any sense in your head, you’ll tell me what I want to know. If not, Jimin has been itching for some batting practice, and I don’t think you’d look as handsome with your skull caved in.” 

“Boss, I–I didn’t even know Kim was dead until mid afternoon!” Son wheezed, perspiration running into his eyes from the oven-like way the warehouse held heat. “I just got home from Shanghai two days ago. He was alive! He was fine, I swear on my boys’ lives.”

A simple flicker of Yoongi’s gaze was all Jimin needed. He swung his prized weapon in a whistling arc to smash against Son’s collarbone in a sickening crunch. The man’s screeching howl of pain was earsplitting. Had enough grip to it to stick with you and haunt your nightmares. His collarbone caved in an unnatural dip that would have made a weaker woman than Nari gag.

“Who did you sell me out to, Son?” Yoongi barked, any trace of kindness or warmth that Nari had ever seen in his eyes hardened to black rage. He grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back when he didn’t stop moaning and screaming, “Killing Kim wouldn’t benefit you at all, and you’re not smart enough to hold some sort of coups. So fucking fess up! Who paid you for his information?”

“Nobody! I didn’t get Kim killed– I would never betray you, sir, you know I’m loyal!” 

Yoongi set his jaw and fisted his shirtfront just so he could punch him hard enough in the mouth to snap his head back. Son must’ve cut the inside of his lips pretty deep on his teeth. A river of crimson left his mouth in a spray that stained Yoongi’s white shirt in an iron and salt scented mist. He didn’t give him more than half a second to react before he hit him again and again and again. Blood poured messy and wet down his chest from his nose and shredded lips.

_“Don’t! Lie! To me!”_ Yoongi roared over his gasps and sputters. “You were the last person to see him alive.”

He gave a half assed gesture to Jimin, “Again.”

Jimin’s leanly muscled frame seemed to glide through swing after swing. The hollow aluminum let out a muted _thunk_ every time the metal came in contact with its victim. Each swing of the bat had Jimin’s black hair falling in his eyes. His full lips twisting in a snarl. The bat was an extension of his arms. The movements done with practiced ease. The only telltale sign of effort being its wielder’s grunts of exertion and the sweat gathering at his upper lip. Jimin’s look of sheer hatred made it seem as if Son had betrayed him personally, as if the snap of his bones was a personal means of revenge. 

He gave a final swing. It came down hard on his forearm. Hard enough to leave a grotesque dent in the shattered bones and bruising skin. Son’s shrieks of pain melded together in echoes to form a mutant-like cry that sounded closer to a wounded animal than a human being. The entirety of his arm was in a mangled kink. All sagging horror and limp appendage. 

His voice was barely intelligible amongst his sobs and cries of pain, “I don’t know. I don’t know anything!” 

Yoongi turned to Hoseok and jerked his head. The light in Hoseok’s eyes could’ve lit up all of Seoul. 

He appeared by Yoongi’s side and flicked open his horrifyingly polished knife that glinted silver and menacing in the overhead lights. 

“I didn’t! I didn’t do it!” Son wailed, tears liquifying the drying crusts of blood trailing down his muzzle. “Please, you know I have a family– D-don’t do this to my sons!”

Without a second thought, Hoseok forced his tightly clenched fist to flatten into a shaking, quivering open palm. Son let out a gut wrenching shriek. Hoseok began to saw through his ring finger. Just below his wedding ring. The sound of the serrated knife dragging through bone and tendons made Nari’s face tense. 

Hoseok stood unbothered and unfazed by the spurts of blood leaking and collecting at his feet. He held the severed finger in front of his face with bare, bloody hands. A fire in his eyes and all of his teeth bared like some sort of wild animal, “If you don’t start talking, Mr. Min is gonna send all your little fingers and toes to your family. How do you think your wife will scream when she gets your half green and spongy ring finger in the mail, hm? Do you think she’ll want to keep this tacky wedding band? How scared do you think Minsung and Woojong will be when they see their Daddy chopped up like the bibimbap they ate for lunch?”

He sliced two more fingers away through never ending screams. They pretended they were nothing more than background music to their torture scene. He sliced until all that was left was Son’s index finger and thumb that flexed and curled like a grotesque pincer. Son’s whole body shivered. Skin nearly gray. A sheen of sweat mixing with smears of blood. A man barely hanging on. A man in the process of accepting his fate. Before he could inflict more damage, Yoongi held up a hand that stopped Hoseok in his tracks.

“He’s not gonna talk,” he bit out. He kept his eyes glued to Son, “Nari.”

Her body moved on reflex at the call. She left Taehyung’s side. Approached where Yoongi and Hoseok stood before the hyperventilating man. With squared shoulders, she stood in silent anticipation.

“Make him beg for death.”

Three steps and she was directly in front of him. One fluid movement. Her fist made impact with his injured clavicle in a heinous snap. Son convulsed in a thundering scream. The pain was so overwhelming that his stomach lurched and sent half digested lunch splattering all over himself. He was barely coherent. Only mostly conscious. 

Any guilt Nari felt prior to that moment melted away in that half a second of nothingness before her knuckles made contact. There was no room for guilt. There was no room for emotions. To save herself and continue her mission, Son Juwon had to die. No matter the circumstances. Saint Peter might not understand, but she knew Jooheon would. Hell hath no fury like a disobeyed Lee Jooheon. It wasn’t about her. It was about him. Just like always.

A flick of her thumb summoned the deadly blade she kept on her at all times. 

“Hoseok,” her voice was steady and void of emotion, “hold his head still.”

He stood behind Son and held him still despite his bucks and jerks. His grip was so painfully tight that the man’s eyes seemed to bulge.

She leaned close to the side of his face. The spice of his aftershave and the sour burning smell of bile and the metallic tang of blood burned her nostrils. She didn’t sound like herself as she seethed low and furious in his ear, “You’re a shameful coward for betraying Bangtan. All of the things Mr. Min did for you and you repay him with cold hearted betrayal. I hope you rot in hell.”

When Nari pried his mouth open to reveal his tongue, the muscle rolled and squirmed like she’d shucked a fresh oyster not yet dead. She gripped it tight in her gloveless fingers. She silently cursed Yoongi for not giving her a pair. 

The blade’s cold and unyielding sting against the base of his tongue made a throaty yell settle in his chest. Cutting wasn’t a difficult task. It was cutting through the onslaught of bright red blood that gushed and made it hard for her to see that was the problem. That, and keeping a tight enough grip on his now half severed tongue nub. Straining and wriggling behind his teeth. Wet and desperate chokes sent throatfuls of blood spewing ugly across Nari’s nose and cheeks and forehead. The deafening sound of steel sawing through flesh filled her every waking thought. Her lips pursed into a tight line. The fear of blood in her mouth too strong to allow for the snarl she would have been sporting otherwise. 

The roar of her knife’s ministrations halted and brought a heavy silence that could only be broken by the raw and disgusting gags and rasps coming from Son. Half of his tongue was limp and unmoving between her fingers. The leftover nub sent obscene amounts of blood seeping between the half dead man’s lips. It was finished. She felt nothing. Not relief for covering Jooheon’s mistake. Not shame for helping kill an innocent man. Just the numbness that followed after cutting a man’s tongue right out of his head. 

She tossed the mutilated hunk of meat to the floor.

Yoongi stepped forward and pressed the barrel of his gun against his temple. The pop of the gunshot made Nari think of her mother. He sat there all slumped over with half his head missing and it was like a veil had been lifted. The problem was solved. She was no longer at risk.

“Go home,” Yoongi instructed everyone as he slid his pistol into the holster under his arm. “I’ll stay until cleanup gets here.”

They left Yoongi with nothing but the echo of his own voice and the sickening drip of Son’s brain matter meeting the concrete.

Jungkook left his car for Yoongi to drive home. The seven of them all piled into the van like they had been less than twenty-four hours prior, only now half of them smelled like blood and sweat and vomit instead of cologne. Hoseok patted Nari on the back with a sticky, bloody hand before slipping in ahead of her and sitting in one of the captain’s chairs in the middle row. Nari would probably be proud of that later, but for now she just felt the exhausting emptiness. 

Somehow she ended up sitting in the back row with Taehyung squeezed between her and Jimin. He sat rod straight, like he was scared to touch either of them. If she had cleaner hands or any feeling in her body, she would have tried to comfort him. She would probably do that later, too. 

Jungkook sat ahead of her. Not once on the way home did he look at her or speak to her. Part of her wondered if he was disgusted with her.

The rest of the guys were silent–even Jimin. All somber faces and distant expressions. Nari had never seen a group of mobsters take a moment of reverence after ripping a man apart. She supposed she liked it better than when Monsta X would come back from doing wet work grinning and celebrating and mocking the poor fucker who managed to piss them off or get in their way. She never thought twice about it until she was forced to join Bangtan, but comparing the two methods made her shiver. Jooheon and Yoongi were both cold and terrifying when trying to prove a point, but Yoongi seemed to know when to stop. Jooheon was like a wolf. He would probably play with a corpse for hours after it was dead if given the opportunity. 

Nobody spoke as they got out of the car and filtered inside the house. Everyone split and branched off to go their own ways. Nari stood at the bottom of the staircase with her bloody hands and stained dress and stared blankly at the steps. It was such a long way to the second floor–such a long way to her room. The idea of being alone made her heart race. She didn’t know why, because she’d killed dozens if not hundreds of other men in more brutal ways than the way she’d just handled Son. She shouldn’t have been affected. She wasn’t. She was fine. It was just another job.  
But was it?

Robotic and slow, she walked to Jungkook’s bedroom door. The thick layer of congealed blood squished sticky and thick like paste between her fingers when she made a fist to knock.

A few slow seconds passed before Jungkook pulled the door open a crack and stared at her with tired eyes. He hadn’t even had time to change out of his suit.

“Can I come in?” her face felt like a mask, her voice sounded flat even to her own ears in spite of the frantic way her heart was galloping against her ribs. 

He glanced down at where her crimson hands dangled at her sides, “You’re all bloody.”

“Yeah.”

“I really want to be alone, Nari, I--”

“Jungkook,” she took a deep breath, chest tight with that foreign feeling, “please. I can’t.”

The emptiness in her eyes must have clued him in, because he stepped aside without another question. Sora scampered around her feet and licked at her ankles as she stood stiffly in the middle of his bedroom. He appeared out of nowhere with a pair of sweatpants and one of his plain t-shirts, “Here. You can use my shower.”

She held up her gore-caked palms, “They’re dirty.”

“I’ll put them on the counter for you.”

Son was such an unlucky man. He dedicated his secret nights away to Bangtan. He lied to his wife and sons and remained loyal, and it still got him killed. He went against his faith, went against his vows, and went against his family. For nothing. 

From the bathroom, the shower hissed to life and Jungkook emerged. Warm fingers wrapped around her upper arms as he pulled her towards the steam billowing from the open door. He positioned her in front of the mirror and paused with his hand on the knob, “I’ll be right outside, okay? Just. Call if you need anything.”

The muscles in her neck took a moment to obey her mind in its commands to nod. The door clicked shut behind him. 

Her reflection was a horror in itself. Dried blood dotted along the planes of her face like gory freckles and dried her hair in clumps. Her dress was ruined--the whole front of it stained beyond saving. When she pulled it over her head and tossed it to the floor, she could see Hoseok’s bloody smear of handprints. Three. Right in the shape of the only affection he’d ever given her. Pat pat pat. She shucked off her bra and panties and stood naked in front of the mirror to take in the monster she’d become. A monster in the body of a girl. She felt like a corpse, like the bullet that rocketed out of Yoongi’s gun pierced her skull instead of Son Juwon’s. She felt so weak standing there. So bare.

All the blood caked along her skin barely bothered her in comparison to the little black tattoo hidden along the cut of her hip. A little dagger, all thin lines of ink that were as black as Jooheon’s soul. Back when she was new to Monsta X and Jooheon had convinced her that they were deeply in love and would be inseparable, unbreakable, and unbeatable. Changkyun, their second best assassin aside from Nari, had a knack for art. It was the only human thing about him. She sat there so dreamily next to Jooheon while Changkyun dragged the tattoo gun across her skin, never expecting to have a demon inside her five years later that had to fight the urge to run away from all Jooheon turned her into and from Jooheon himself. Knowing he bore the same ink, that they were bonded forever, made her teeth grind. Most of the time, she forgot she had it. But then she was reminded, and each time the reminder punched a little harder. He was both the love of her life and the man she hated almost as much as her father.

She ignored the desire to scratch at it like an ugly scab and stepped into the shower. 

It was too hot, but she let the steaming water melt all the gore from her skin. Too numb to feel the sting like millions of pins that made her skin flush bright red and splotchy. She looked down at her hands and watched the blood loosen until it found its way onto the shower floor and circled the drain. Like a bad remake of the movie Psycho. Maybe she was Norman Bates. Maybe she was just as crazy as she felt sometimes. Maybe she let Son take the fall because she was psychotic. Maybe she cut out his tongue because she was batshit crazy. Maybe she secretly loved it. Maybe that’s why she let Jooheon command her--because she knew it would always, _always_ end in blood on her hands.

Her eyes closed as the water streamed down her face. Stamped in the back of her eyelids, all she could see was how she imagined Son’s wife. His two sons. They’d never see him again. He was probably close with them. His sons probably loved him very much. Would his wife have to identify his mutilated body in a cold and sterile morgue? Would his sons see their dead father’s face all marred and bruised from Bangtan’s fists? 

Nari’s stomach rolled. Shower still running, she threw back the curtain and scrambled to make it to the toilet just outside the tub before she puked all over Jungkook’s bathroom floor. Trembling hands white knuckled the porcelain as she threw up the little contents of her stomach. Bile burned her nose and her eyes watered in what was either a natural reaction from vomiting or because vomiting broke the dam inside her. Her body convulsed in a violent dry heave of a gag. She was truly empty. A sob clawed its way out of her mouth against her will.

She wasn’t sure when Jungkook came in, she just felt the plush towel wrapping around her dripping, naked body and his gentle hands on her. One rubbed her back, the other held her hair back off her face as one final shuddering gag made her spit weakly into the toilet. Her bare body trembled uncontrollably.

“He had kids, Jungkook,” she sobbed, face contorted and still hanging over the porcelain bowl. Tears slid down her nose and dripped into the soiled water.

“I know,” he whispered back, voice soft as ever. 

She straightened up just to bury her face in the front of his shirt, one hand holding her towel in place and the other desperately fisting the t-shirt he changed into. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping both arms around her and propping his chin on the top of her head. He shifted from a squat to a full on sit right in the puddle all her drips made and pulled her into his lap. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured softly into her wet hair. “We’re gonna be okay. It was a hard day.”

He pulled her towel tighter around her and rubbed her cold arm, “You’re freezing. Can you stand? You need to put clothes on.”

She nodded with a sniff and forced herself to stand, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that was essentially naked. She gripped her towel as he followed suit and wiped the tears away from her cheeks, “Don’t watch me change.”

“I wouldn’t.”

He pulled the door behind him and left a crack when he caught sight of the panic in Nari’s eyes.

She towel dried her hair and pulled on the baggy clothes without worrying about drying her body. She couldn’t be bothered, even when the cotton clung to her and stuck in odd places. She just wanted to sleep. 

When she pushed open the bathroom door, Jungkook looked up from his phone. Nari’s cheeks burned when his eyes lingered on the way his clothes fit her. He pulled the covers back for her and helped her get situated in bed beside him all tucked warm beneath the comforter. They lay in silence for a while, both of their hearts too heavy for conversation. But soon Nari found herself speaking.

“I’d never killed with other people before,” she admitted.

“I’ve never killed alone.”

Her throat tightened at that, but she swallowed it away, “That’s the difference in us, I suppose.”

He didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t need to--it was fact.

Nari sniffled and glanced over her shoulder from where she curled away from him, “You don’t have to stay on top of the covers like that.”

“I--” he blushed to his hairline. “I just. You… I wanted to be polite. I didn’t want to overstep.”

“Just hold me, Jungkook,” she forced a small, melancholy smile. “Please.”

He gave a little nod and buried himself under the covers beside her. Uncertain and stiff, he curled up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, still a good two or three inches away from her. She scooted backwards until she felt the firm warmth of his chest against her back and relaxed into him. 

Son Juwon was dead. A sacrifice he was forced to make against his will, and all for the sake of Nari carrying out her mission for Monsta X. He wasn’t the first man to die because of her, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. Dozens came before him, and Nari was just only then realizing that each of those people were just like Son in their own way. She was ashamed to say that she didn’t even know how many of them had families. Once her job was over, they ceased to exist. Gone forever and rotting without a second thought. All because of her.

The tickle of Jungkook’s breath and the brush of his nose on the back of her neck brought her back to the present. If she couldn’t figure out some sort of solution, Bangtan would end up just like all the others. They were good men. They took life seriously, they only killed if it was absolutely necessary. They didn’t take pride in the way their blades claimed bodies as Bangtan’s own possessions. If she couldn’t save them, Jooheon would have them all slaughtered. She had to find a way. Any way. She had to protect them. She wouldn’t let them be just people in her piling body count. 

\--------------------------------

He never thought he would see her like that. Jungkook wasn’t entirely sure what “like that” meant, because the outburst was so sudden and so unexpected. He knew the way Bangtan handled their business was almost unheard of, considering what they were. It only made sense that after living with them for months and months, Nari would be influenced by their mindset and values, he guessed. 

Against his better judgement, he was letting the distance he tried to keep between them shorten day by day. He didn’t fully trust her--even though he did like her. Something felt off about her, especially in the beginning, like a whole part of her was hidden and locked away so tight that she was only half a person. But even so, something pulled him to her like a magnet. She was opening up slowly but surely and he was beginning to see her as family, even though for months he didn’t trust her. He didn’t want to. 

But now.

Now Jungkook held her close in his bed while she slept to keep the monsters away. And he didn’t regret it. Not one single bit. Maybe it was finally time to just let her be. Let her be Bangtan, let her be a friend. An ally. She proved herself a great deal with Son, even if it was bordering on disturbing how good she was at her job. Even if he was able to physically watch her disconnect from her emotions as she hacked away inside Son’s mouth, like unplugging a lamp from an outlet and watching the bulb go dark. That was probably the most disturbing part to him. The way she could cut off half her brain to rip a man apart. It was something about her eyes. Something simultaneously dimmed and brightened the second she got her hands on him.

She stirred in his arms in the darkness of early morning with a soft little whimper. It reminded him of when he first brought Sora home from the shelter and she whined in her sleep because she missed the noise of the other dogs. He did what he did with Sora and held her tighter until her muscles relaxed and the crease between her brows flattened. He wanted her to be okay, as much as he wanted Taehyung to heal, and Seokjin to find peace, and Yoongi’s pain to end. 

“Quit watching me sleep, you freak,” she grumbled without opening her eyes.

Jungkook’s face burned in a guilty grin, though she couldn’t see it. 

Her body shook with a silent chuckle, “I can feel you smiling. Quit it. Go to sleep, the sun isn’t even up.”

“Why are you even awake right now?” he mumbled into the nape of her neck as he stifled a yawn. “It’s barely 5:30.”

“Why are you?”

He didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know why he was awake. Because he wanted to make sure she was okay? Because he wanted to make sure someone would be there if she needed them? In case Son had triggered her night terror somehow? 

“Someone had to make sure the monsters stayed under the bed.”

He could practically feel her eyes roll, “You’re insufferable. You’re going to be exhausted all day.”

He gave no more than a grunt, too tired to dispute that. She was probably right, but he wouldn’t have slept if he had to do it over again.

A moment passed, the darkness heightening every sense in apology for stealing sight. Nari rolled over to face him, the shift stirring the air. She smelled like his body wash and shampoo, but somehow her perfume clung to her skin and bit through all the things that were his to make them her own. Her smart, cunning eyes caught the light of the moon as she peered up at him, cheek smushed against the palm of her hand. The expression on her face made Jungkook’s heart pick up speed, and he didn’t know why. 

“Thank you,” she softly said in the darkness. He could barely see, but through the veil of night he felt the brush of her hand against his as she shifted positions. “I’m sorry about yesterday, but...yeah. I don’t know what happened.”

He bit at the dry skin on his lips, “It’s fine. Sometimes it’s just…”

“A lot.”

“Yeah,” he tucked his hand under his cheek to mirror her. “You feel better now though, right?”

He felt her nod more than saw it.

“Good.”

A weighted silence fell between them, the only sounds in the room being the hum of Jungkook’s fan and Sora’s deep breathing from where she snuggled against his legs at the foot of the bed. He wanted to say something, do something. Anything. He didn’t know why that nervous anxiety was building in his stomach to make sweat gather at his palms and at the nape of his neck. 

His cottony mouth opened to say something he was unsure of, a deep breath filling his lungs with enough subtlety that he prayed she didn’t notice, “Nari, I--”

A knock came at his bedroom door, almost immediately followed by a flood of pale light from the bulb over the kitchen sink. The rolled shoulders and small frame were undeniably Yoongi, even by just his blacked out silhouette it was plain to see. Jungkook and Nari both sat up on their elbows, eyes squinting into the breach of darkness.

“Jungkook--” Yoongi halted and stared in silence for a moment, expression never changing despite the surprise of finding the two of them curled in bed together. His hand lingered on the knob, “Get up. I just got a call. We have an important meeting to go to.”

“At six in the morning?” Jungkook rubbed his eyes. “Is Hoseok going, too?”

“Meeting’s at ten. In Gwangju. Yes, Kook, Hoseok is going. Nari,” he crossed his arms as he took a deep breath. A cold stone sat heavy in Jungkook’s gut, “You’re coming, too.”

Nari was already halfway out of bed before he finished speaking, “Who are we meeting with?”

“Choi Seunghyun.”

He was gone in the blink of an eye, and the second Nari gathered her ruined clothes, she disappeared to get ready as well. Jungkook sat alone in the sea of his navy blue comforter, Sora tiredly standing and lumbering over to lick him on the face. He sighed.

“Guess we gotta get up, huh?” she sniffled in his ear, her cold nose making his shoulders inch to his earlobes and a chuckle leave his lips. He would take that as a yes. 

Jungkook hated meetings. He hated the prep work for them, he hated how long they always seemed to last, and he hated the fact that he had to be on high alert at all times just in case something was a plot to hurt Yoongi. The stress of it all gave him anxiety that he was forced to mask for intimidation’s sake, because if something were to happen, the blame would fall on the muscles’ shoulders. Usually him and Hoseok, or him and Joon, or Joon and Hoseok. Sometimes Yoongi would ask for three men to come along with him if the risk of potential danger was great enough--today was one of those days. And that was exactly why Jungkook was on edge. Because Yoongi asked Nari to back them. Which meant it was dangerous, or at least had the potential for danger. 

He hated being the muscle during meetings, but it could have been worse. He could’ve been Son Juwon. The man who ruined the infamous trafficker, Choi Seunghyun’s, plans. Which was exactly why they were meeting with him—to discuss their ruined arms deal. 

Son was one day belly up and still causing problems for Bangtan. 

Though based off Hoseok and Nari’s demeanors in the car, you’d think everything was perfectly normal. They talked casual and calm, like one of the deadliest men outside of Bangtan wasn’t more than likely out for blood. Had he not been so exhausted or had the person they were meeting been anyone else, he would’ve been talking right along with them. But he’d been to the Galaxy when Jackson and Choi were unloading their trucks. He’d seen the girls who were glassy eyed and unmoving when the doors to the trucks swung open. He’d seen how carelessly Choi aimed his gun between the eyes of the few girls who made it out alive but were too terrified to cooperate, and he knew what it sounded like when their bodies hit the ground. Not that Nari and Hoseok didn’t know those things or hadn’t seen horrors, but he wasn’t like them.

Jungkook was too scared of what comes after death to talk.

When they reached Choi’s massage shop, he strode alongside Nari and Hoseok as they made their way behind Yoongi. Their footsteps echoed hollowly through the hallway while they closely followed Choi’s assistant. The building was massive. Polished to hell and back and gleaming with the latest decor. Masseurs stood rod straight and serene at every passing glass door that lined the endless hallway, as if welcoming them to their disguised portal to hell. 

The hairs on Jungkook’s arms stood on end when they passed the single imperceptible panel in the wall that slid away to reveal the stock of women drugged and terrified and waiting to be sold like cattle or carted off to god knows where. He had only ever been down there once, the first time they came to meet with Choi. He had nightmares about it for days. Nightmares about semi-living and skeletal women crawling after him and begging for help, their bony and freezing hands pawing at his crotch and asking if he was ready for a good time. Their voices always sounded inhuman, not entirely real. 

He never wanted to go down there again. 

Thankfully, they breezed past The Panel and continued walking until they arrived at Choi’s office door. Jungkook let his eyes take in the space as the assistant announced their arrival--although he was fairly certain the man could see the four of them standing there for himself. It was too sterile, too clean. There was very little that was comforting or warm about the office where he was sure Choi spent hours of his day. When he made eye contact with the two men in each corner of the room behind Choi, Jungkook’s eyes immediately flickered to land somewhere besides the faint reflection of himself visible in their sunglasses. 

The man stood with a single icy smile. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk, “Min. So nice to see you again.”

Yoongi gave Hoseok a nod and sent him to stand outside and guard the door. 

“You know,” Choi chuckled in that low gravelly rasp as he sank back into the pristine leather of his chair, “you don’t have to send your beast out to keep watch. I just want to talk.”

The mocking way he spoke about Hoseok made both Jungkook and Nari bristle.

“It’s precautionary,” Yoongi crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. “Gotta be protected on all sides. Can’t have entitled jackasses trying to take us out when our backs are turned.”

_Yeah, because Choi Seunghyun is about as loyal and trustworthy as a viper,_ Jungkook thought to himself. He didn’t trust him one bit. He hated that Yoongi insisted on going through with this deal, because it only meant Choi coming to them for more arms in the future. 

Jungkook locked eyes with Nari as she moved to stand just to the side of the door. He followed her lead and stood at a loose attention, eyes never leaving the man whose dark eyes glinted from where he sat behind his desk.

“That uncertainty is exactly why I called you here today, Min,” he steepled his fingers over the broad, flat calendar spread out across his desk top. “Your man, Son, turned against you. I surely hope you have an alternative way to get me my guns. Kim’s murder makes working with you much less...appealing.”

Yoongi’s tongue flickered out to wet his lips, “I don’t have an alternative option. Yet. Give me time. I’ll find your guns. Quality is worth the wait. And the trouble.”

Choi tsked with a lazy shrug and dusted a piece of fuzz from his sleeve, “Where there’s one roach, there are dozens. Are you sure you have a handle on your men, Mr. Min? Are you sure that hiring new recruits is a good idea when your current associates are running around selling you out to whoever offers up the most coin?”

Yoongi didn’t respond, the air thickening to stone in his silence. His jaw hardened and clenched in an attempt to keep his silver tongue from running free. 

“And a _woman_ at that? All women do is lie, Min. Especially ones who know how to wield a weapon,” a light played behind his eyes that made Jungkook’s blood boil. He gave a smug smirk, “Give them power and it goes straight to their stupid little heads.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jungkook saw Nari’s teeth grit, her face red with rage. He silently begged her to let Yoongi handle it, the last thing they needed was her lashing out and feeding Choi his own balls for being a sexist prick. That’d open up a whole new can of worms. 

“Is that why you keep yours in cages?” Yoongi bit out, voice steady to the average person. But Jungkook could hear the unbridled anger just beginning to peek through. “Let’s be real here, Choi. We don’t like each other. And I certainly don’t respect your line of work, no matter how successful it reads on paper in terms of numbers. But I like money. And if that means finding guns to sell you so you can keep your _inventory_ in line between stops, then so be it. You just worry about my money.”

The older man leaned back against the spine of his chair, eyes glowing in black glee. He knew he struck a nerve, and he reveled in it. The taunting tone to his voice gave it away, “You should hope so. Bangtan may be powerful, but you’re not indestructible. It would be a very poor decision for you to disappoint me again, Mr. Min. Bad for you, and bad for your precious _people.”_

Jungkook’s fists wrung tight in a tense clench when Choi’s cunning eyes lingered too long on where Nari dutifully stood behind Yoongi, dressed head to toe in a suit as sharp as her blade. She was one of Bangtan. He’d dismantle Choi with his bare hands before he let him get his hands on her. 

“Is that a threat, Choi?”

“If you’d like to call it that, you may,” he straightened a stack of papers on his desk. “I’m sure Bambam would love a shipment including the infamous Oh Nari. You know he gets off on breaking the wild stallions.”

Yoongi stood slow just to press both hands onto the mahogany wood of the polished desk and lean close enough to snarl in Choi’s face, “I don’t know what kind of standing you think you have in this community. Everyone knows you lost half your men and half your power when The Dragon moved on to bigger and better things. You’re a nobody, Choi. Your threats mean nothing when Bangtan has more power and pull than you’ve ever even dreamed of. Kindly pull your head out of your ass and appreciate the time I’m giving out of the kindness of my heart and respect my men and women.”

He straightened himself and turned towards Nari and Jungkook as he adjusted his jacket, looking like he was moments away from grabbing the decorative paperweight perched on the corner of Choi’s desk and smashing him over the head with it. Jungkook pulled the door open for him. They left without another word. It was the shortest meeting Jungkook had ever experienced in his time working for Yoongi. It was also the angriest Jungkook had ever seen him after leaving one. 

The whole way back to the car, Nari didn’t say a word. Her expression was unreadable, but Jungkook knew her well enough to tell that she was seconds away from disconnecting. She stared blankly at where her hands rested in her lap and ignored Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s weak attempts at conversation. Her fingers were on the cord, seconds away from yanking the plug right out of the socket. Mentally, silently, he counted down the seconds until the lights went out. He decided it wasn’t his business to try to help unless she asked him to. 

He did wish she would ask him to.

\--------------------------------

The second they got home from meeting with Choi, Nari changed into gym clothes and went for a run. Hearing that Choi used to work with her father made all the energy in her body feel like too much, like she was shaking with the need to break into a sprint. Like if she didn’t, she would run away for real. And that would ruin everything. She barely spoke to anyone before leaving, and the only person who even seemed to care was Jungkook. Even he just let his gaze linger before looking back to the TV. At least she had finally reached a point in this shit show where no one questioned her loyalty when she left the house. She had finally proven herself. That was the one thing she had going for her.

With every slap of her feet against the asphalt, another question bloomed in her head. Why would Jooheon have Kim Kwangmin killed? Why would he risk her mission? Was Bangtan worth losing the one person who saved her life? Jooheon was nowhere near perfect, hell, Nari spent a lot of time wanting to kick his ass the longer she was away from him. But she couldn’t deny that she did still love him. In some weird, fucked up sort of way that was impossible to explain. The little dagger forever traced at her hip burned. She wished she didn’t love him. 

She ran until she was sure she was entering the city. Until the only thing echoing in her brain was the smack of her sneakers on the sidewalk. Until the traffic got heavier, and the crowds got denser, and people were giving her strange looks because of the way she wheezed and struggled to keep herself from hyperventilating. She wanted to keep running, wanted to run until she was so far away that she didn’t know where she was and there was no chance of anyone finding her. But her body betrayed her and forced her to stoop over and grip her knees until she caught her breath. 

As her heart rate slowed, the thoughts returned. Fuck, she wished they would stay away. 

She righted herself and wiped the sweat from her brow, freezing when she saw a pay phone across the busy street. Body moving on its own accord, legs jelly and lungs still burning, she jogged over to it when there was a break in traffic. She used the little bit of change she kept in her fanny pack and dialed one of the only numbers she knew by heart.

He answered after the second ring.

“Yes?”

“Meet me where we first met.”

There was a beat of crackling static where he sat stunned by her abruptness and lack of discretion before he spoke again, “Okay.”

Then the line went dead. She knew he would rip her a new one for not speaking in code, but at that point she didn’t care. The beginnings of rage were swirling in her gut by the time she made it to the shining office building whose alleyway was once her home. By the time Jooheon finally showed up, the sparks of anger were full fledged pyres.

He turned the corner and started down through the alley, and Nari was stalking towards him like a woman on a mission.

“What the _hell,_ Jooheon!”

The muscles in his jaw clenched, black fire burning in his eyes as he reached forward and grabbed a handful of her hair by the root, tight enough to make her cry out. He leaned closer and pretended like she wasn’t clawing at his skin to get him to ease up, “If you were as smart as you pretended to be, you would speak to me with respect, darling.”

“You fucking murdered Kim, Jooheon, you almost blew everything!” she hissed, venomous and strained from the way her neck was bent at his unforgiving hand. “You almost got me killed! They could’ve seen right through me!”

“Anything that almost happened to you was your own goddamn fault,” he seethed, a vein bulging in his neck. “You should have been so seamless and so perfect that there couldn’t have been a way for them to ever connect you to it. Your shitty undercover work puts the whole mission at risk--”

“Your selfish ways put _my life_ at risk.”

He pulled her towards him hard enough that she felt a seam pop in her tank top. His icy breath against her ear made chills prickle across her skin, “I think you’ve forgotten your place in Monsta X, Nari. I saved you. I pulled you from the trenches and put a roof over your head. I trained you. I made you _unstoppable._ I can do whatever I want with your life. It’s mine.”

He pulled her back enough to look her in the eye. The look in his made the anger burning under her ribs turn to fear, “You’re just a girl. A girl who knows how to play pretend. You’re replaceable, and I won’t think twice about making you regret ever taking that tone with me if you forget your place again.” 

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved, though Nari wanted so desperately to move out of the uncomfortable position he had her neck in. Jooheon let her go with a shove and straightened out his jacket. He watched with his head held high as she stumbled to keep her balance and stretch out her aching neck and shoulders, “Next time you call, I expect valuable information. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to think that you’re throwing the job on purpose. And I can promise you, the way Monsta X handles traitors is much, _much_ longer of a process than the way Bangtan handles them.” 

Her tongue flickered out to wet her lips. Scalp throbbing, she swallowed and forced herself to shrink, “Y-yes sir. I’m sorry, Jooheon.”

He cupped her cheeks and leaned down to press his mouth against hers, all icy and tundra and flurries of deadly promises. She relaxed into the kiss, a little sigh breathing against him, and disgust radiated deep in her bones for it. He smirked, more than proud of himself, “I love you. I would hate to have your blood on my hands, my love.”

“I’ll do better,” the words came out of habit, the meek and submissive way she sounded making her own skin crawl. 

“For your sake, I hope so.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and strolled out of the alleyway, taking all the frigid air with him.

The second he was gone, Nari collapsed to lean back against the building. He was going to have her killed. She was going to end up dead, she was sure of that. She wasn’t sure how or when, but she knew her death would be at Jooheon’s hands. Ironically, maybe he would strangle her to death. Something he used to do to pleasure her. Jooheon liked symbols like that for traitors, but he was much more aggressive than a simple strangulation. The thought made her shiver. 

Maybe there was a way that she could help Bangtan before she met her untimely end. She didn’t know how, but she would find a way. She had to.

She pulled out her phone and called the first member of Bangtan in her text messages, who just so happened to be Taehyung, and asked him if he would come pick her up at the convenience store just down the street. She couldn’t force herself to run back home. Her body hated her enough for the first go round. 

He showed up in fifteen minutes, helmet gleaming as he pulled it off and held it at his hip. He grinned and patted the seat, “Your chariot awaits.”

The leather was hot under her thighs and his spare helmet squished her cheeks, but riding through Seoul while clinging to Tae’s middle and he zipped along the streets was more freeing than anything she’d experienced in a long time. She felt powerful. More than just a girl who knew how to play pretend. 

If she was going to be murdered by the love of her life, she was going to feel that freedom until she drew her last breath.

As Tae pulled into the open garage and killed the engine, Nari ripped the helmet from her head and spoke through a shit eating grin, “I want one.”

He quirked a thick brow as he hung his helmet on the handlebars, “Is that so?”

“I’m serious,” she handed him the spare helmet and looked up at him with wonder in her eyes, pupils blown wide with adrenaline. “I want one.”

“You know that shit’s not like riding an actual bike?” he chuckled as he clicked the button to close the garage door and headed towards the door to go inside. “Or like driving a car. You’d have to get your license for that.”

“I know. But I want one.”

The smile that curled to show all his pretty teeth made his eyes sparkle. He ruffled her dyed head, “You know, to be so scary, you’re not so scary.”

She gave him a light shove as they walked through the door, “For the last time, I’m not _scary.”_

“Not right now,” he gave a deep, impish giggle and flopped onto the couch. His shaggy hair sprawled out across the throw pillow, “But you haven’t crossed over to your fourth dimension yet.”

She chucked a piece of ice at him as she filled up her glass, and Taehyung ducked down behind the cushions with a yelp to protect himself.

As if on cue, Yoongi emerged from his office looking weary. He stopped in the middle of the living room and stretched before letting out a groan, “Don’t make plans for tomorrow. Any of you.”

“Why’s that, boss?” Tae asked from his position on the sectional.

“Because we have a gala to go to,” he scratched at his jaw. “I made some calls. Some men Kim worked with are willing to meet with us and discuss business so that we can get that fucker Choi his guns and be done with it all. We’re all going, I don’t know how dangerous it’ll be.”

“So, that means--”

He cut Nari off, “We’re going to Shanghai.”


	4. Shanghai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taehyung discovers the truth about Leo’s death. Nari faces a problem of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters that I've written so far! Lots of great tension and drama *eyeball emoji* I hope you like it!! Thank you for reading <3

The last time Nari was on an airplane, she was coming back to Korea from Thailand. After going through with a hit Jooheon put out on Lalisa Manoban. She was the rich and powerful heiress to the Manoban mob that had connections out the ass that were beginning to bleed into Korea, and, therefore, Monsta X territory. He wanted Lisa gone, and Nari had been there to serve. The poor girl was wiped off the planet less than five minutes after she and Nari stumbled into her penthouse suite. 

That was probably a week before she came to take down Bangtan. Now, just a few months later, she was stepping off of Bangtan’s jet and mentally preparing herself to attend a gala in hopes of finding a supplier who would work with them to ensure that their deal with Choi went through. Everything felt different. She even seemed to look different, face just a little fuller and a softening around her eyes that she prayed Jooheon would never notice. 

Everyone was sluggish and tired as they shuffled off the plane, all carrying hanging bags full of formalwear. The sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon in an exhausted stupor, throwing shadows long and dark across the asphalt. Most of them were too focused on getting in the right headspace to chatter and banter as they usually would. Things had to go well so that the deal could be successful. So that Choi would fork over the money. So they could keep Choi’s men out of their hair and prevent any mishaps where he thought he had the upper hand or more power. 

Yoongi’s phone call with Kim’s associate, Zhang Yixing, got them rooms in the hotel where the event would be held. Though they weren’t staying in Shanghai after the gala, they happily agreed to use the rooms to relax and get ready beforehand. 

Zhang had arguably more power and influence than even Kim, due to the fact that he inherited one of the most successful businesses in China and was sitting pretty in the CEO position. He had people licking at his feet both in the office and when he left to go manage his weapons trade--the side business he ran in the same circle as Kim. Younger, more business savvy, and more professional than his late associate, Zhang was not one to underestimate. 

Nari had a bad feeling about how the night was going to go. 

She didn’t know why. Maybe it was because it was so last minute and she had no time to read up on Zhang Yixing. She knew he wasn’t one to trifle with, but she knew less than she had ever known about someone Yoongi was working with or was going to work with. All she knew was that the gala they were attending may as well have been a convention for the god knows how many men Zhang had important connections to--the whole event flying under the radar because of the way he advertised it as a charity ball hosted by his company. There were too many uncertainties, as far as Nari was concerned. She didn’t like the fact that she knew so little. She hated feeling helpless. She needed to be the most informed, have the most intel, and be the most prepared. It was how she was trained.

But if Yoongi trusted the situation, she would stand down and trust his instincts. 

Blessed (or cursed, depending on who you ask), Nari had a room of her own. She appreciated the silence, but a part of her wished that she had someone to keep her company. It was bordering on too quiet, like she was truly and completely alone in the world. She could nearly hear her heartbeat as she finished her makeup, eyes smoked black and sultry, and lips glossed like they’d never kissed the cheeks of men from who her hands had stolen final breaths. The silk of her dress brushed across her skin like champagne kisses, the corseted bodice hugging her waist and making her look more like a woman than she felt. The silk straps fell off her shoulders, and the flowing skirt slit to her upper thigh in a way that made her feel almost as exposed as knowing next to nothing about what was to happen that night. 

If she had seen herself through someone’s else’s eyes, she would have thought she looked like a goddess. And truthfully, she knew she did. But she wished she could just be bare and faceless at home with the guys while they ate at Sejin’s instead of going in blind to visit a lion’s den. 

A knock on her door drew her away from the mirror. As she turned the knob, her worries melted away, only to be replaced by the persona Bangtan needed her to take on. The persona that she needed to be.

All seven of the others were standing outside her door--all seven looking dashing in tuxes. 

Yoongi jerked his head. “Let’s go.”

And with that, Nari grabbed her clutch and headed out the door. 

She walked alongside Yoongi with her head held high. For some reason, she felt like she was entering battle. She didn’t know why. There was no intention of a fight, no intention of murder. At least not tonight.

The weight of someone’s gaze fell heavy on the side of her face, and she pulled her eyes from the nothingness she’d been focused on before. Yoongi was wearing an expression she couldn’t quite read. As if he could hear her thoughts, he looked ahead again and cleared his throat, thumb jamming into the button to call the elevator, “I’m assuming you’re armed.”

The chill of her knife’s handle grew frigid against where the holster sat on her inner thigh.

“Always.”

“Good.” He led her into the tiny space by the small of her back once the doors slid open. “Just in case. You never know. I think we’re all hiding a weapon or two.”

The sheer mass of their party meant breaking into groups of four and taking two separate elevators. Made them less conspicuous. That part made her nervous, mainly because they didn’t know what awaited them on the first floor, and being split up meant possible weakness. She was going to have to trust that everyone could fend for themselves. She locked eyes with Jungkook as the doors slid shut, and as the car began its descent down to the first floor, she felt a little calmer. Even if others couldn’t fend for themselves, she and Hoseok and possibly Jimin could certainly do some damage. 

Namjoon shifted from foot to foot with strong hands clasped under his navel. He gave Yoongi a quick glance. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Shit. So maybe she wasn’t crazy after all.

“Namjoon, trust me,” Yoongi stubbornly spoke, eyes staring at the polished reflection of himself in the golden walls. “I’ve never led you into something that we couldn’t handle.”

“We don’t know anything about Zhang. _He_ could be leading us right into something.” His deep voice was low, almost like he was scared someone was listening. “Who does he even work with? What type of people are we dealing with? What do we know about this guy?”

“The kind who will keep Choi from trying to start a war over some stupid guns.” Their leader turned and looked up at the younger man. “Kim is dead because of our own. It’s been a hard few days. I’m doing my best.”

The ding of the elevator was too cheerful and grating for the frayed nerves buzzing beneath Nari’s skin. If Namjoon didn’t feel good about it, Nari certainly didn’t, either. He was smarter than her, and he knew the workings of Bangtan better than she did. If he felt there was reason for worry, there should probably be reason for worry. Even if it was over something small. Even if Yoongi said otherwise. 

“Jin, Hoseok, and I will go straight to the conference room to meet with Zhang,” Yoongi said as he stepped out the second the doors were parted enough for him to fit through. “The rest of you keep an eye on the ballroom. Make sure there’s nothing shady in the works. Eat, drink, and be merry. Just be alert.”

Hoseok nudged Nari forward with his shoulder, hands shoved deep in his pockets. When she looked back at him, his befreckled mouth curved into a smirk. “Showtime, princess.”

Namjoon eased out of the corner of the elevator and looked down at her with a half smile. There was a tightness in his eyes that she felt to her core as he held up his arm for her to take, “We’ll see how this goes.”

“We’ll be fine,” she assured, linking her arm in his and taking a deep breath. The echo of her heels on the marble flooring set her on edge, but the warmth radiating off of Namjoon’s large frame at least made her feel somewhat centered. “We know what we’re doing.”

They could hear the dull roar of the crowd before they set foot through the doors of the ballroom. Draped in ornate gold to match the rest of the hotel, the added decorations for the “charity ball” made it feel almost gaudy and overwhelming. Countless people clumped together and slowly made their way around the art installations that lined the walls. Some made their way through the line for food or alcohol. Relaxed jazz played by a man seated at a grand piano to the side of the room, his eyes seeming to droop out of sheer boredom. They slowly followed the flow of people, though the pace was nearing a crawl. 

Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin appeared out of thin air, the first of the three donning a slightly annoyed expression. “Thanks for waiting.”

“You took too long,” Namjoon deadpanned as he pulled Nari’s arm from his. “I’m going to do a sweep and get a feel for the people here. Maybe see if I can pick up any useful information.”

Jimin plunged his hands into his pockets and strolled after him, that trademark sway in his step. “I’ll come with. No one should go off alone.”

They disappeared into the crowd without so much as a second look.

Taehyung prodded Nari with his elbow in an offering of his arm and waggled his eyebrows at her. “Shall we make our way to the bar, my queen?” 

She rolled her eyes but took his arm anyway. “You’re actually the worst, but yes. We shall.”

The three of them made their way to the heavily stocked open bar, eyes and ears open for any possible threats amongst the two or three hundred people gliding around the ballroom in their floor length gowns and their overpriced tuxes. 

As glints of diamonds and pearls glimmered before her eyes in a sea of shine, she wondered how many of them had tasted suffering. She wondered how many had the luxury of not knowing what their fathers’ knuckles tasted like. What their mothers’ blood smelled like. Assuming that the answer was slim to none, white hot anger bubbled and stirred in the pit of her stomach. In her life, Nari never wanted, but she surely suffered. The fact that there were people so stupidly unaware of what pain was made her rabid.

Had Jooheon? Had he suffered? Had he felt pain, or had he always been a monster? She always thought that monsters were made, not born, but when trying to imagine Lee Jooheon enduring hardships at any point in his life, she drew blanks. All memories she had of him involved him building pain and resurrecting fear. 

God was to the universe what Jooheon was to suffering.

“Nari?” Taehyung asked, brows pulled low as his dark eyes searched her face. “Did you see something?”

She had to stop. She had to focus. Thinking about him would only make her emotional in the worst way.

She sipped the liquid gold from the cool flute in her hand, forcing her face to relax and all the bitterness to retreat into hiding. Slender fingers twitched in search of a relief only nicotine could bring. Mentally, she cursed Jungkook for getting her hooked. Her head shook. “All clear. You see anything?”

“Nope.” He swiveled around in his barstool to face the crowd, elbows resting on the slick of the bar. “I don’t think this lot has the stones to be a threat.”

Jungkook jerked his chin in the direction of the security lining the perimeter of the room. A valley deepened at his brow. “The rich bitches might not, but they do. But I don’t figure they’ll make a scene unless they have to. Still, we can’t be sure.”

Nari knew Jungkook was right. Yet still, that nervous feeling of impending doom loomed over her head. It had her leg shaking and her eyes flitting from face to face in the mass of bodies meandering across the marble floors. Made her teeth grind like a bad night’s sleep. She had no reason to have the hairs at the back of her neck prickling the way that they were. Maybe Yoongi and Zhang would come to an agreement soon and they could go back home. Back where it was safe.

Reaching over into the inside pocket of Jungkook’s dinner jacket, Nari looked into his eyes and held up his pack of cigarettes between two fingers. “We’ll have clearer eyes without cravings.”

And without a single opposition, the three of them were strolling towards the terrace.

Namjoon met them just as they stepped into the warmth of the night, a strange look in his eye and his jaw clenched. Jimin’s inky black eyes jumped nervously around their surroundings, and his hand was precariously hovering over the waistband of his pants. He itched to draw his gun. Joon tugged Taehyung closer to the four of them by the sleeve of his jacket. He leaned close enough that Nari could smell the spice of his cologne. “Be civil. We aren’t the only family here tonight.”

Nari blinked, not computing. She’d seen no one. She’d heard nothing of any other crime family being at that event. Why didn’t she know? The prickles at the nape of her neck turned into currents of electricity crawling across her skin.

She opened her mouth to ask for more details when a glacial chill crept across the terrace. A familiar change in the air. That knowing drop in her stomach. Like mercury in a thermometer. She knew before she heard his voice.

“Isn’t this a lovely surprise.” Jooheon spoke from across the way, voice eerie in the way that it was kind but in no way genuine. In no way warm. The rest of Monsta X leisured on the designer furniture, demeanor relaxed and unbothered. But Nari could see their eyes. They glowed. She knew that look all too well. “To be here at the same time as Bangtan. What a coincidence.”

His eyes bore into Nari as he sauntered closer. She felt like her heart was rattling the cage of her ribs, trying desperately to free itself. Her palms sweat. Why was he in Shanghai?

_Don’t be stupid. He’s here for you._ The thought made her knees threaten to give out. Somehow she kept her composure and sent a polite smile.

“And who is this?” Pools of burning tar lingered on her every curve. Eyes anchors pushing her head underwater. He was drinking her in. Or more likely, like he was scouring her for any sign of betrayal. “What is someone so beautiful doing with amateurs?”

“Funny. It seems Bangtan is dominating the market right now.” She curtly said, gaze cold. An unhinged part of her brain let the truth speak. Her eyes held Jooheon’s. “I’m sorry. Who are you? I don’t appreciate strangers insulting my family and our business.”

“Lee. This is Oh Nari. _The_ Oh Nari.” Namjoon made no move to come closer or create distance, but he was tense. Coiled and ready to strike at any given moment. Like he half expected Jooheon to try to slit her throat right then and there. 

Truthfully, so did she.

He stepped closer so that he skirted on being uncomfortably close. Nari’s body betrayed her in the ache of her chest and the heat prickling between her legs. He was so close to her. Half of her fought the urge to wrap her hands around his throat. Half of her wanted him to do the same to her. To kill him or to love him. That was the constant battle she fought. 

Jooheon’s lips stretched into a cunning smile, ends of his mouth curling like wisps of smoke. “What a shame we missed the opportunity to work with you. Your loyalty and insight could take us miles ahead of our own records.”

She spent five years completely in tune with Jooheon. Saying those words was like swallowing vinegar for him. If she squinted, she could just make out the subtle clench of his jaw.

Jooheon gently took her hand, gaze coy. Crisp lines of black ink lay emboldened against the skin of his wrist, peeking out from the sleeve of his expensive suit. A jolt of electricity shot from her fingertips to her shoulder when he pressed his lips to her knuckles. It rattled her up to the scalp. “If you ever tire of working with dogs, feel free to contact me.”

“I’ll keep that in--”

A crash sent her reaching for the knife that sat like lethal ice on her inner thigh. Every sense was on edge, every hair standing on end as she whirled around to find the source. Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon all readied themselves to draw weapons if need be. Everyone was wide, quick eyes and tensed muscle. Nari’s brows furrowed.

Taehyung stood frozen in place, his glass reduced to silvery shards glinting at his feet. Statue-like. His hand still hovered like it still held a drink. His pallor was pale and gray, even in the low lighting of the terrace. His expression was unreadable--caught between disbelief and realization. 

Jimin, unmoving, glanced his way. “Tae--?”

“It was you?” His eyes were locked on Jooheon. The man’s voice didn’t sound like his own. Tight and frail. A breath held, meant to contain the storm brewing inside. 

A ghost of a smile teased Jooheon’s lips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about--”

The frozen composure Taehyung sported dissipated within half a second. He stalked towards Jooheon, eyes black and endless as hell. Monsta X and the majority of Bangtan alike drew their weapons in a frenzy of metal and confusion. The few bystanders unfortunate enough to be on the terrace with them fled to the safety of indoors. 

Nari watched as Taehyung roughly grabbed his hand. He yanked the sleeve of his jacket up to reveal the dagger that was forever etched into Jooheon’s skin. His mouth twisted in a snarl, all color rushing back into his face in excess to make him a brilliant shade of red. “It was you!”

Jooheon ripped his hand from Taehyung’s grip and fiddled with his cuff link. Voice calm. Unbothered. “I have no idea what you’re referring to, Kim.”

_“You know exactly what I mean!”_ Long fingers fisited designer lapels. Yanked him forward to be nose to nose. Saliva gathered at the corners of Tae’s mouth. He was rabid, then. Barely human. Lost in the break of his sanity. Shadows from low light hollowed out his features. A wolf mid-turn. He seethed through gritted teeth. “You _killed_ him, you _son of a bitch!”_

Nari gasped. There was no way. Leo. Why would Jooheon have killed Leo? The weight of Monsta X’s aim made her head feel heavy. Guns drawn, muscles tight. Nobody daring to breathe.

“I know that tattoo,” he spat. Black eyes pierced through the curtain of hair that fell into his face. He gave Jooheon a hard shove. Got in his face like he didn’t know what death was. Kim Taehyung was fearless. “I _know_ that tattoo! I know! _I know that tattoo!_ I know it!” 

He maniacally dug a finger into the side of his head, tapping three rough times. His pretty mouth twisted into a deranged smile. Caught between a sneer and baring his teeth like an animal. His eyes were dangerous. Unhinged. His laugh made Nari’s skin crawl. “It’s burned into my goddamn brain! It’s all I _fucking_ see.”

He drew his gun. Aimed it right in Jooheon’s face. His smile wiped away with the click of the safety on his weapon.

Changkyun redirected his sight. Barrel pointed directly at Taehyung’s head. Nari’s stomach dropped. Her eyes burned with panic. 

“Stand down,” she barked, lowering her blade. It fell to the ground with a _clang._ Changkyun locked eyes with her, but she didn’t look away.

Somewhere behind her, there was a pause. Confusion. Silent gazes asking why she was taking the lead. 

_“I said stand down, goddammit!”_ She raised her hands by her head and looked back.

Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon stared at her, bewildered. Jungkook’s voice was disbelief. “What are you doing--?!”

“They’re going to _fucking_ kill him!” She was sure of it. Could feel it in her bones. Jooheon loved enemies’ emotions. They were easy kills. Easy ways of manipulation. He had a plan. She knew it. Taehyung begged for a bullet between the eyes with every enraged word. With Taehyung gone, they had no tech guy. No IT man, no hacker. Half their brain would be gone. Their humanity would be gone, too. They’d just be monsters. 

They’d never seen her so scared before. Never heard that waver in her voice. It made their weapons ease down towards the concrete. Their eyes flickered between one another. Made their mouths dry and their palms sweat. 

Taehyung’s face twisted, his eyes shimmered with furious, angry tears. Chest heaving, he stared at the weapon held so comfortably in his hand. Stared for a second too long. Like it spoke to him. It slowly sank until the barrel a was pointed at the ground. His shoulders sank with it. His voice was broken. “You killed him.”

That light glimmered in the wells of flaming oil Jooheon called eyes. Unbridled glee. Unabashed joy. A panther playing with its food. He smoothed the wrinkles left in his jacket from Tae’s desperate fingers. He smirked. “Taehyung, I’m terribly sorry for your loss, but I have no memory of breaking into your home and yanking that little fairy out of the closet for a second time. Or carving him up like a Christmas ham.”

He rushed to aim it once again with shaky hands. Face contorted with emotion and burning red. 

All of Monsta X redirected their guns towards Taehyung’s head. Jimin lunged to jump in, but Jungkook held him back by a handful of his jacket. 

Taehyung was too enraged to care.

“Nari--” Namjoon warned.

She was already wedging herself between the two men. Her heart hammered in her chest. 

Jooheon wanted to push him. He wanted to force his break so he would have an excuse to end him. Without Taehyung, it would be easier for them to knock down firewalls and break into files. All of their clients. All of their members and their information. He was trying to topple Bangtan without keeping her in the loop.

“Tae.” 

Her interference had Hyungwon, a dutiful member of Monsta X who was all mouth and leg, encroaching on her from the side. Like he had the mind to take her out or shove her out of the way for war’s sake. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Nari saw Jungkook appear out of nowhere and fist the collar of his shirt. The barrel of his gun roughly kissed the underside of Hyungwon’s chin. The flames in the chocolate of his eyes and the hatred in his voice Nari had never witnessed before. “Touch her and I pull the trigger.”

Taehyung ignored her. He stuck to screaming insults and expletives at Jooheon, who stood all too smugly just across the way. He fought against Nari, trying his damndest to get past her. 

“Taehyung, give me the gun.” She enunciated, clammy hands pressing to his chest as she slowly edged him back. Her voice was muffled by his seethes and growls. “Tae. Look at me. Please. Please look at me. Now isn’t the time. It’s not the time for this, you can’t do this here. Not with them.”

He was practically vibrating under her touch, though he did lower his weapon. His eyes were locked on Jooheon’s tattoo, veins cabling in his sinewy neck. “He killed him.”

“You can’t kill him, Tae. Don’t kill Jooheon. Give me the gun.”

“I will.”

“You _can’t.”_ She raised her voice. “They. Will. Kill you. The only reason they haven’t yet is because there are witnesses and I am in their way. Do you understand?”

“Why the fuck do you care if he lives or dies!” he bellowed, that chilling gaze snapping to her face. “He deserves to die--!”

_“I know!”_ she yelled over him. All fell silent.

“Look at me.” She snapped, stern. He grudgingly obeyed, nostrils flaring. “They have more connections here than we do. We’re outnumbered. In the time it would take the others to get here, we would all be dead. Leo wouldn’t want you to die like this. Don’t make this a suicide mission.”

“Yeah, Kim.” Jooheon prodded from the six foot distance between them, if that. “He screamed like a bitch. You think that’s worth dying for? If you’re going to be a fucking queer, at least fuck someone who’s a real man.”

Before Nari could react, Taehyung lunged. Nearly shoved her out of the way. 

Jooheon reached for his weapon in the same breath, already jumping at the bit to blow Tae’s brains out. She could hear the click of him pulling back the hammer. She wouldn’t let another member of her family die. 

On reflex, Nari disarmed Tae with a swipe of her hands. For his own sake. Broke down his grip so he had no choice but to let go. The metal was warm in her hands. His face twisted into an angry wince. 

She didn’t want to do it. A solid 90% of her wanted him to pull the trigger. To end the man who she knew was manipulating her. Who was undeniably abusive. But if she let him? Chaos. They would get killed anyway. She couldn’t let them die. She wouldn’t. She was attached. A mistake that she couldn’t say she regretted allowing to happen. 

Plus, that small, remaining 10% was still stupidly, madly in love. She could remember the good times, as odd and sterile as they may have seemed when looking back. 

Memories have teeth.

Taehyung looked at her like she had just killed Leo all over again. Like she stole something from him. In a way, she did. He was so tense that she half expected him to lunge at her, too.

She held her hands by her head, held the pistol out as if waving a white flag. Her expression was stern but bordering on empathetic.

“Joon. Take it.” Her voice was that unfamiliar bark. She’d never heard that tone before. Neither had her team, but that didn’t stop Namjoon from stepping in and gently taking the weapon from her and breaking it down to parts. She could feel the presence of Monsta X lurking behind her, but she didn’t care. Her men were watching her back. She could trust that she wouldn’t die at their hands. Not today. Her eyes were locked on Taehyung as she directed her commands to Jimin. “Take him to his room. Keep him there. Keep him calm.”

“Taehyung,” she softened her voice and stepped closer to cup his cheek. “I care. Okay? I care about you, and I’m brokenhearted for you. But if I let you kill him, you will get us all killed. There will be no justice.”

Feline eyes searching his, determined. She whispered—nearly silent. Quiet enough that her promise only met his ears. “Justice will come. I swear to you.”

He looked heartbroken. That furious kind of heartbroken that has people screaming at the sky. He hated her in that moment. One of the best men she’d ever known wanted to strangle her to death because she saved his life. 

But he left with a disgusted spit at Jooheon’s feet. Too overwhelmed with hate and frustration to do more than that. 

Jungkook finally withdrew from Hyungwon, jaw set. He eyed her, waiting for direction. He trusted her. She could see it in the way he waited. It was a shame that his trust was unwarranted. Still, those doe eyes were a comfort.

She turned to Jooheon. His gaze was hard. Cold. Nothing unfamiliar to her, but there was something swirling just beneath the surface that she sensed. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She sneered, “You stay away from my men. We’re here for Zhang.”

She meant it. She hated him. She loved him. 

She turned to walk away, and her men followed.

\------------------------------

When Nari entered the ballroom, nervous glances flickered her way. She didn’t care. Her heart was hammering pathetically in her chest, the air in her lungs turned barbed wire. Fuck them. They had no idea what was at stake, what they just nearly lost. Each step across the marble floors made her grit her teeth harder and harder. 

Jooheon just almost killed Taehyung. Jooheon killed Leo. Monsta X murdered Leo, and she had no idea. Why did they keep that from her? In the five years Nari had known him, Jooheon had always kept her in the loop. Always. There wasn’t a thing that she didn’t know. 

So why, suddenly, did Jooheon begin hiding information about contact with an organization that she would be infiltrating just over a year later? During that time, she was learning all about Bangtan. Every minute detail. That was something she should have known. 

Yoongi and the others met Nari, Jungkook, and Namjoon near the bar. She couldn’t force herself to explain. She just waved Jungkook and Joon to do the talking. She needed to be alone, if only for a minute.

Too overwhelmed and shocked to acknowledge her leaving, Yoongi said nothing, which Nari was thankful for. She hurried to the bathroom in peace. The hypnotic hum of the crowd was a song motivating her to keep her composure. That dull roar kept her mask on tight and secure. The sudden silence after the swing of the bathroom door was permission to fold.

She just almost lost Taehyung. They just almost lost him. Monsta X was more than ready to spray his brains across the gaudy terrace. 

Shaky hands ran through her hair, pushed the windblown strands out of her face. Breaths pulled ragged and rough, her lungs fighting the icy hands that seemed to have reached straight through her chest and clutched them in a vice grip. 

Spotless and reflective black and white tiles seemed to swim before her eyes. Her legs were trembly and weak. She had to pull herself together. 

Both hands planted themselves on the sleek black countertops and her head fell forward--the sweat and heat collecting in her palms creeping around her fingers in foggy halos. The closest to an angel she would ever be. 

The door swung open with the power of a gale force wind. She didn’t bother looking up. She didn’t care who saw her anymore. 

A gasp ripped from her throat when her head was yanked back by the roots of her hair. Wide eyed and horrified, she made eye contact with the Devil himself in the mirror.

“What the fuck kind of game are you playing at, Oh?” Jooheon sneered in her ear. Close enough that she felt the heat of his breath. A vein bulged in his temple. 

“I’m not playing any games--”

A short cry left her lips. Pain. Sharp, throbbing, lights dancing in her line of vision. The onyx countertop was biting ice against her cheek. Jooheon’s nails dug into her scalp. 

“I told you if you turned on me, I would kill you.” 

The deafening, tinny ring in her ears made it hard to form sentences. Made her tongue heavy. 

Her scalp burned when he straightened her up by her hair. Spun her around and pressed her back against the wall. Something tickled along her eyebrow, right along the crest of pain he left behind. He seemed to tower over her. Eyes black as death and those full lips pulled back into a snarl. She loathed herself for thinking he looked sinful in the best way. Her eyes widened when strong fingers wrapped around her throat.

“You’re working for them.”

_“No!”_ she rasped, clawing at his hands. She couldn’t breathe. Panic. Voice gone, she hurriedly mouthed, “Undercover! I’m undercover--!”

She caught her reflection in the mirror. Red faced. Blood trickling down the side of her face. Dressed in some of the nicest clothes money could buy. In a foreign country, in a bathroom no less. Essentially alone. This was how she was going to die?

Strangled, desperate noises caught under his fingers. She clawed at his vice grip. _“Jooheon--! I’m undercover! It’s an act! I’m loyal! Baby— baby, please—”_

The back of her head met the wall with a crack as he slammed her back against it with a force she’d never felt from him. Nari was almost certain she felt her brain bounce helplessly off the wall of her skull. Pain blinded her and stole a startled yelp from her lungs. There was another debilitating second of galaxies swimming before her eyes before the chill of Jooheon’s fingers disappeared. Her legs buckled and sent her tumbling into a limp heap on the cold floor. Dry coughs wracked through her in raspy barks.

He reached down and pulled her up by her upper arm. No time for recovery. Only for submission. “Get up. Stand up.”

Weak knees wobbled below her, but she forced herself to obey. 

He pinned her to the wall again, body pressed close to hers. Voice a low rumble, he spoke quietly as he gave her a once over. “You’re undercover.”

“I’m undercover. I’m j-just doing what you sent me here to do.” Somehow, she conjured up a sureness that she didn’t feel. She struggled to hold her throbbing head up, eyes barely focused. “If I don’t act like one of them, they’ll be suspicious. You know that.”

He hesitated. Jaw twitching as he thought it over. Fear had her legs trembling. He was going to kill her. She knew it. She was going to die alone at the hands of a man who had been puppeteering her for five years. She didn’t know who she was--all her time had been spent trying to repay Jooheon for… 

For what? Taking her off the streets just to use her for his own gain? Why would he choose her anyway? Had she been ignoring the glaring truth all this time?

After gauging her sincerity, he nodded, eyes still cold. There was a bitter twist at his mouth as he fully pressed himself to her. His chest was stone against hers. “If you ever said that shit to me outside of a job—”

“I know.”

“I would kill you. You’d wish you’d been given a chance to die like Son Juwon.”

There was an electricity in the air. Something brewing behind Jooheon’s dangerous eyes. He was so close to her. The familiar scent of his cologne filled her nose. Made her chest ache. She despised that part of her wanted him in every way imaginable. Hated that even after he manipulated her and treated her like a dog, she was still wrapped around his finger. She was absolutely disgusted with herself. Would she ever be able to escape from this life? 

His breath tickled her neck as he slowly brushed his lips along her pulsepoint. Her eyes fluttered shut, a shaky sigh slipping between her lips at the touch she’d been craving for months. A hit from the deadliest drug. Dangerous love. Every negative feeling numbed. Not gone. Just dulled. She could never forget how terrible he was and how badly she needed to get away, but she also couldn’t find it in herself to care with those lips on her neck. She was an addict. She didn’t know how to quit. 

In the darkness behind her eyelids, she felt him leave a burning, open mouthed kiss at the juncture of her neck and jaw. She shivered when the caress of his tongue traced her jugular. Taking a shaky breath, she arched her neck to allow him more access and murmured, “You killed Leo.”

He hummed, uncaring. A strong hand ghosted along her side, sliding down the silk of her dress to grab a handful of her ass. Tight. Almost painful. Almost a threat. He pulled her impossibly closer. “If it really mattered to you...if you cared...you would’ve slit my throat by now.”

Her arms anchored at his shoulders when his hand slipped past the slit in her dress to trail along the holster secured at her inner thigh. He’d barely touched her and she was already breathless. “But why? Why didn’t you just tell me--?”

_“Why? Why why why?”_ he mocked, voice pitching up as he cupped her sex. He tucked his lip between his teeth, lids heavy. “That’s not knowledge necessary for your job, nosey bitch.”

The degradation had a pang of arousal shooting straight to her core. He knew every single one of her buttons, knew just what to say and do to make her fall apart. To manipulate her. 

“You’re not as righteous as you think, love,” he breathed against the shell of her ear, smug. His fingers crept higher, sending her heart galloping in her chest. A twinge of ice laced in his voice as he curled a finger past the lace of her panties. “You’re here with me. You’re gonna let me fuck you right here with Bangtan there in the ballroom. You wanna know how I know?”

Her whimper was all the acknowledgment he needed. 

A skilled finger traced her slit, gathering slick and swirling it around her swelling clit. He growled, “Because you’re a filthy, desperate whore. You’re so eager to please me, baby. You know you’re mine and no one else’s. You’d do anything to get me to praise you.”

She was soaked. She hated herself--for aching for him, for wanting him, for wanting this. She hated herself almost as much as she hated him. She wished she wanted to kill him then, it was the perfect moment.

His breath against her ear and the almost painful ache between her legs had her rolling her hips into his touch, fucked out whines muffling into his neck. She needed it. Needed the praise, needed more. “P-please--”

“You know what you have to do for praise,” he tsked, nose grazing her cheek. 

She knew. Of course she knew. And she knew that when his sinful fingers were no longer teasing her entrance, the idea would make her sick.

“You know you have to finish the job. Finish what you started. We both know that even if you’re unsure now, you’ll do what I tell you to in the end. Because you’re mine,” he sneered, cock straining against his pants and pressing into her stomach. He was smug--insufferable. Stroking his own ego to completion. “Even if they’re your friends. You’re still here with me. Even if you’re attached to them, you stopped Taehyung from pulling that trigger today.”

She gasped against his shoulder when he buried a finger knuckle deep in her soaked, needy cunt. Curled the digit until she saw stars and could bear it no longer. Until she fucked herself on it, desperate for friction.

He smirked. Eyes hungry. Losing himself in his own talk. “As much as you think I deserve to die, angel, you love me too much to let it happen. You’d let me give every member of Bangtan a Colombian necktie before you let them lay a hand on me.” 

She had to bite his jacket to conceal her moans when he added a second finger and began finger fucking her until her legs shook. Fast. Filthy. His fingertips rammed against her g-spot and had her mouth desperately searching for his, trying and failing to make him kiss her. 

Jooheon pulled back, pupils blown so wide that his eyes were black. Unending. The atmosphere was crackling lightning and rolls of thunder. Almost in a trance, he reached up and swiped his thumb through the trail of blood that shone bright crimson on the side of her face. His touch made her brow throb, a low whine catching in her throat. 

His eyes followed his thumb, traced the smears of red on her skin like paint. When he wrapped his thick lips around his finger, his eyes flashed. A deep groan rumbled in his chest. Nari felt his cock twitch at the salty, metallic taste on his tongue. The taste of life. The taste of death. Of pain. 

He kissed her then. Dirty. Deep. She tasted the rusty tang of blood on his tongue. 

“I’m g-gonna-- Gonna cum--” she panted as the fingers of his other hand continued to wreak havoc on her, cheeks flushed from how quickly he had her spiraling. 

Without another word, he withdrew his fingers and pulled her around to stand in front of the mirror, her back to his chest. The breathtaking, blinding urge to tip over the edge faded as quickly as it appeared. Looking at their reflections, she was appalled. She was a mess. Hair ruined, makeup ruined. Blood smeared across the side of her face. 

Jooheon neared madness. Eyes glowing, magnetic. Lips swollen and gaze hot. 

She was desperate, needy, when she gripped the counter and ground back against him. “Jooheon, _please.”_

Biting his lip, he hurried to unzip his pants and ruck her dress up over her ass. Pushed the thin lace to the side.

Nothing compared to the overwhelming stretch as he pushed in with a deep roll of his hips. Sheathed balls deep and stuffing her so full that there was barely room for any air left in her lungs. Her jaw dropped as he wasted no time before grabbing her hips so tight it hurt and fucking her hard enough to jolt. It was filthy. The chance that anyone could walk in at any given moment and see him fucking her senseless. The way her wet pussy squelched in exaggerated echoes through the tiled bathroom. The fact that Bangtan was just beyond that door and across the ballroom. 

Short, broken moans slipped from her lips. She could feel herself creeping closer and closer to release with every glide of his thick cock against her aching g-spot. “Joo--heon-- Oh my g- _god--_ So good--”

Her whines were cut short by his hand. Heavy. Angry. Covering her mouth, silencing her desperate cries. His other arm snaked around her waist. Forced her back to arch deliciously, made him hit a spot she didn’t even know existed. Her neck ached in the bent, arched way he forced her head back. But she didn’t care. All she cared about was how quickly she was falling apart on his dick. How she could feel arousal trickling down her inner thigh, dripping like honey from a spoon. Slow. Sweet. 

Jooheon leaned closer, caged her in. She could see the fierce, carnal look on his face as he locked eyes with her in the mirror. His thick lips brushed her split brow as he spoke, holding her impossibly tighter. Forcing her in place as he purposely kissed at her wound. “You’re mine.”

Whatever crust of congealed blood had sealed the cut split. A trickle of a fresh bead rolled down from her brow, a slight wince narrowing her eyes from the sting. 

Her muffled moans rose in pitch as he increased his pace. Pain was a gift when it came from Jooheon. When he was stroking, pushing all her buttons to have her falling apart in record time. The slap of his balls against her clit made her eyes roll back. Made her knees tremble. Muscles jumpy as she tried to hold herself together. To make it last as long as she could. 

Seeing her nod frantically, he slid his hand down to grip her chin. Fingertips digging into the hollows of her cheeks. The dull pain made her core clench tight around him, made his hips stutter. 

It was the flutter of his eyelids that pushed her over the edge. That snapped the band that had been tightening inside her. That brief millisecond of humanity in him. The thaw in the ice. 

Her orgasm wracked her, left her mouth hanging in a silent cry. Euphoria. The best of what hell could offer her. White hot flames licking between her legs, sending overstimulated jolts to seize her muscles. Sin. No need for clit stimulation when his dick was ramming her g-spot to completion. 

He hissed into her ear, raven wing eyes locked on hers. “You belong to me. _Say it.”_

_“I’m yours--”_ Her words were stretched and malformed around the too-tight way he dug his fingers into her cheeks. 

The whine in her voice, the sob she let out made him groan. He barely looked like himself. Barely composed, hair falling in his eyes. Without warning, he dragged his hot, silky tongue up the side of her face. Licked the fingerpainted crimson from her burning skin.

He came with a growl, teeth gritting as he emptied himself into her. 

There was a moment when the world seemed to stop. When nothing felt real, nothing had sunken in. Those few seconds ticking by that felt like an eternity. 

Panting, his voice dropped an octave as his gaze held her reflection’s. “Finish what you started. One more chance. If you waver again, I’ll kill you myself.”

And just like that, he was letting her go. Tucking himself into his slacks and slipping through the door.

She stood there, dazed and leaning against the marble countertop. Trying to gather herself. She wasn’t sure how many minutes passed with her standing there, statuesque and trying to make sense of what just happened. 

She just fucked Jooheon. In the bathroom. With her teammates just beyond the door in the ballroom. She fucked Jooheon, and he _hurt_ her.

They’d been together for nearly five years, and he’d never ever laid a hand on her. Threatened her, sure. Manipulated her, absolutely. But never in the entirety of their relationship had he ever tried to strangle her and slam her against a wall. He never made her bleed. 

Her head pounded, an icy chill running down her spine at the memory of his tongue on her skin. Something was different. Something changed him, something made him snap. Or...maybe nothing was different. Maybe he had been fighting the urge to do something like that for a long time. 

As she turned her head, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and grimaced. She had to clean herself up. Had to get back to--

The door swung open.

Nari froze, eyes wide and blood cold at the sight of Yoongi standing before her. Large hand splayed out across the unblemished white and gold door to hold it halfway open. 

The world tilted on its axis. She was a deer in headlights, caught mid-leap in the unstoppable path of a semi. 

Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. Both letting time stand still.

She had no explanation for the state she was in. There was no way for her to explain the dried blood on her face, the smear of her lipstick, or the cum slowly oozing down the inside of her thigh. She was caught. This was everything she’d fought to prevent. This was the end, this was her end. She was sure of it. There was no redemption for a rat, no savior for a double agent. 

Her eyes burned with tears. If she was dead, no one could protect them. Maybe they’d let her give all the information she had before Hoseok and Jimin sliced her to pieces and smashed her skull in. If they’d even believe her. 

Though she was wide and glassy eyed, face pale, Yoongi wore a look of stoic indifference. Unperturbed. Unshaken. 

“Clean yourself up,” he clipped, eyes hard as they took in her disheveled appearance from beneath his faded blue fringe. He was unreadable. To have caught her red handed, he wasn’t exploding. He wasn’t loud and angry. That terrified her. 

Yoongi’s black eyes locked with hers. “When we get back to Seoul, you and I are going to have a little chat.”


End file.
